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Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  canadien  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


Tti 
to  1 


Tha  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  6t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-dtre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  m^thode  normale  de  filmage 
soni  indiqu^s  ci-dessous. 


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Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 

Covers  damaged/ 
Couverture  endommagee 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur^e  et/ou  pellicul^e 

Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  g^ographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Reii6  avec  d'autres  documents 

710*^1  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  reliure  serree  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  int^rieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajoutdes 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  6tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  6t§  film^es. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  supplementaires; 


□    Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  de  couleur 

n    Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagdes 

□    Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaur^es  et/uu  pellicul^es 

□    Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  d^colo.6es,  tachet^es  ou  piquees 

□    Pages  detached/ 
Pages  detach^es 


D 


V 


Showthrough/ 
Transparence 


□    Quality  of  print  varies/ 
Quali 


lite  inegale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  material/ 
Comprend  du  materiel  supplementaire 


Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponible 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  6t6  filmdes  d  nouveau  de  facon  ci 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


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This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film6  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqu6  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X 


18X 


22X 


26X 


30X 


_/ 

12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


Tte  copy  filmed  hare  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

University  of  British  Columbia  Library 


L'exemplaire  film^  fut  roproduit  grAce  A  ia 
g6n6ro8it6  de: 

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The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
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fiimi  >g  contract  specifications. 


Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  netteti  de  l'exemplaire  film6,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  Ail 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — *>  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimis  sont  fiim6s  en  commengant 
par  ie  premier  plat  et  an  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  salon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  fiim6s  en  commenpant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparattra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  chaque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  -^  ..ignifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbols  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
filmis  A  des  taux  de  reduction  diffirents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  cliche,  il  est  filmi  d  partir 
de  Tangle  supirieur  gauche,  de  gauche  A  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prensnt  ie  nombre 
d'images  ndcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m6thode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

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8 

6 

i 


BY 


William  H.  Sallmon 


STUDIES  IN 

The  Life  of  Paul. 

Paper,  15  cents.     Cloth,  25  cents. 
STUDIES  IN 

The  Parables  of  Jesus. 

Paper,  15  cents.     Cloth,  2s  cents. 
STUDIES  IN 

The  Life  of  Jesus. 

Paper,  25  cents.     Clotli,  40  cents. 


If 


;    s' 


1 


< 

X 


UJ 
H 

Ui 

< 

OQ 


«> 


The    Culture 


ot 


Christian    Manhood 


Sunday  Mornings 
h>.  Batrc!!  (.'I'.apcJ 
Yale  Univcrr.'iitV'^ 


Edited  by 

William  H.  Sallmon 

With  Portraits  of  Authors    ' 


"  St)  /«/,'  of  f';randeiiy  is  our  dusi, 
So  mur  ix  Gtni  f.j  ina>i, 

Tkt  \outli  '-^J>'i>j,  ■/ :,t»  '" 

!:.Mhn\as 


New  York      Chicago      Toronto 

Fleming    H.    Revell    Company 


M  DCCC  XCVII 


i  I;' 


'I 


( .  '■, 


'/ 


-1 


a: 


The    Culture 

of 

Christian    Manhood 

Sunday  Mornings 
In  Battell  Chapel 
Vale  University* 


Edited  by 

William  H.  Sallmon 


With  Portraits  ofAuth 


ors 


"  ^cf^*ll  of  grandew  is  our  dust 
..f"  '"''^^  is  God  to  man, 
WheH  duty  whispers  loiv,  '  Thou  must,' 
I  he  youth  replies,  'J  can.'" 

Emekson 


New  York      Chicago      Toronto 

Fleming   H.   Revell   Company 


M  DCCC  XCVII 


;  m 

1 

i 

'.         -1 

•   i        4' 

.      1, 

1 

i 

t 

i 

1 

i 

1. 

BE  1 

Copyright,  1897,  by 
Fleming  H.  Revell  Company 


THE  NEW  YORK  TYPE-SETTING  COMPANY 


THE  CAXTON   PRESS 


J 


Contents 


Preface 


I.  Selected  Lives   . 

By  Charles  Cuthbert  Hall,  D.D 


PAGE 

•      9 

.    13 


li.  The  Part  We  Know  . 

By  Alexander  McKenzie,  D.D. 

III.  Personality 

By  Amory  H.  Bradford,  D.  D. 

IV.  The  Evolution  of  a  Thinker  , 

By  George  A.  Gordon,  D.D. 

V.  The  Great  Heresy 

*  •  • 

By  David  James  Burrell,  D.  D. 

VI.  Christ  Seeking  the  Lost 

By  George  Harris,  D.D. 

VII.  An  Extraordinary  Saint  . 

By  William  R.  Richards,  D.D.  ' 

VIII.  The  Meaning  of  Manhood 

By  Henry  van  Dyke,  D.D. 

IX.  Strength  and  Courage 

By  Lewis  O.  Brastow,  D.  D. 


•  30 

•  47 

•  63 
.  81 

•  lor 
.  118 

.  138 
.  164 


(•m 


!*■■ 


li 


I 

It 


Contents 


PAGE 


X.  The  Tkril  of  Protracted  Temptation    .  184 

By  Teunis  3.  Hamlin,  D.D. 

XI.  The  Gospel's  View  of  our  Life       .        .  200 

By  Rev.  Joseph  H.  Twichell 

XII.  Trophies  of  Youth  the  Safeguard  of 

Manhood 216 

By  Rev.  James  G.  K.  McClure 

XIII.  Manhood's  Struggle  and  Victory  ,        .  233 

By  S.  E.  Herrick,  D.D. 


XIV.  The  Sabhath        .... 

By  Bishop  John  H.  Vincent 

XV.    I.MMUTABILITY  .... 

By  M.  Woolsey  Stryker,  D.D.,  LL.D. 

XVI.  The  Sinless  One 

By  George  T.  Purves,  D.D, 


249 


272 


.   286 


4i 


8 


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,1 


V 


PREFACE 

WHEN  that  prince  of  American  preach- 
ers, the  late  Bishop  Brooks,  after  care- 
ful deliberation,  declined  to  accept  the  call  to 
the  pulpit  at  Harvard  University,  he  remarked 
to  a  friend  that  "  the  man  who  can  preach 
helpfully  to  university  men  is  the  man  who 
holds  a  city  pastorate."     The  colleges  are 
rapidly  coming  to  this  conclusion,  and  the 
college  pastorate  is  giving  way  to  the  new 
system  of  college  preachers.     The  pastoral 
work,  where  it  is  attended  to  at  all,  is  cared 
for  by  other  agencies.  A  few  colleges,  indeed, 
combine  both  methods,  but  in  all  the  tendency 
is  to  place  the  main  emphasis  on  the  preach- 
ing.    The  preacher  now  comes  in  from  the 
busy  world  toward   which   so  many  of  the 
students  are  looking,  and  gives  them  glimpses 

9 


H  m- 


-f 


Preface 


/ 


of  it.    He  comes  from  contact  with  a  broader 
life  than  a  settled  college  pastor  could  be  ac- 
quainted with,  and  he  brings  the  prestige  of 
an  exalted  position,  and  a  greater  enthusiasm 
for  the  large  opportunity  opened  before  him 
than  could  be  maintained  by  a  permanent 
resident.     Naturally  enough,  the  ablest  men 
of  the  country  are  ready  to  respond  to  the 
call  for  such  noble  service.     "  No  thinking 
minister    can    stand    up    before  a  company 
largely  composed  of  young  men  without  a 
strong  wish  to  be  plain-spoken  and  to  come 
straight  to  the  point.     They  have  a  f^ne  im- 
patience for  all  mere  formalities  and  round- 
about modes  of  speech,  which  acts  as  a  moral 
tonic  to  brace  the  mind  from  vagueness  and 
cleanse  the  tongue  from  cant.     They  want  a 
man  to  say  what  he  means  and  to  mean  what 
he  says.    The  influence  of  this  unspoken  de- 
mand is  wholesome  and  inspiring,  and  the 
preacher  ought  to  show  his  gratitude  for  it 
by  honestly  endeavoring  to  meet  it."    These 
words,  from  one  who  occupies  an  influential 
city  parish  and  commands  the  respect  of  col- 


10 


Preface 


I 


lege  men  wherever  he  meets  them,  will  ac- 
count for  the  direct  and  practical  character  of 
the  discourses  in  this  book.  They  have  been 
selected  for  what  they  are  worth  in  them- 
selves, and  will  repay  reading  and  re-reading. 
The  editor  takes  pleasure  in  introducing  some 

of  the  finest  minds  in  the  American  pulpit, 

with  the  messages  of  inspiration  which  they 
have  brought  to  the  members  of  Yale  Uni- 
versity,—hoping  that  the  influence  of  their 
words  will  be  multiplied  many-fold  by  thus 
being  put  into  permanent  form. 


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Selected  Lives 

By 

Charles  Cuthbert  Hall,  D.D. 

President  of  the  Union  Theological  Seminary,  New  York 

''  That  fe  may  be  .  .  .  children  of  God  .  ,  .  in  the  midst 
of  a  crooked  and  perverse  generation,  among  whom  jye  are 
seen  as  lights  in  the  icorld,  holding  forth  the  word  of  life." 
— Phil.  a.  /5,  1 6. 


M 


Y  theme  is  Selected  Lives;  or^  the  Dis- 
tinction Conferred  on  Men  by  Academ- 
ic Training.  Selected  lives  are  lives  singled 
out  from  the  mass :  set  apart,  trained,  and 
commissioned  unto  a  special  opportunity. 
The  basis  of  selection  may  be  chiefly  that  of 
physical  competency,  as  when  men  are  se- 
lected for  service  in  the  army  or  in  the  ath- 
letic games.  Or  it  may  be  chiefly  that  of 
intellectual  culture,  as  in  competitions  for 
posts  of  honor  in  Hterary  life.  Or  it  may  be 
chiefly  that  of  spiritual  efficiency,  as  when 

13 


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Selected  Lives 


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Christ  selected  apostles,  saying,  "  Ye  did  not 
choose  me,  but  I  chose  you,  and  appointed 
you,  that  ye  should  go  and  bear  fruit,  and 
that  your  fruit  should  abide."     To-day  my 
purpose  is  to  remind  you,  as  university  men, 
that  by  reason  of  your  being  here,  in  the 
academic  atmosphere,  among  the  academic 
traditions,  inheriting  the  academic  privileges, 
you  are  selected  lives  singled  out  from  the 
mass,  set  apart,   trained,  and  commissioned 
unto  a  special  opportunity.     Standing  in  this 
great  congregation  of  college  men,  I  feel  that 
I  may  speak  without  reserve  of  the  distinction 
conferred  on  men  by  academic  training.     It 
is  difficult  to  speak  of  this  in  a  promiscuous 
assembly,  where  non-collegians  are  blended 
with  collegians,  lest  one  be  thought  to  dis- 
parage the  excellent  and  forceful  men  who 
have  not  had  the  university  training ;  but  in 
the  pulpit  of  this  venerable  seat  of  learning, 
in  an  atmosphere  charged   with   the  purest 
and  the  best  essence  of  the  academic  spirit,  I 
feel  no  hesitation  in  reminding  you  that  be- 
cause you  are  collegians  you  constitute  a  class 

14 


The  Individuality  of  Men 


of  selected  lives ;  I  feel  no  reserve  in  apply- 
ing to  you  and  in  breathing  upon  you  tliat 
glorious  apostolic  prayer  for  selected  lives 
which  is  our  text :  "  That  ye  may  be  children 
of  God  in  the  midst  of  a  crooked  and  per- 
verse generation,  among  whom  ye  are  seen 
as  lights  in  the  world,  holding  forth  the 
word  of  life." 

If  instead  of  the  hundreds  of  men  present 
this  morning  there  were  but  one  man,  and 
he  a  man  of  thoughtful,  noble  spirit,  it  would 
be  easy  to  deliver  to  him  the  message  God 
has  laid  upon  my  heart.  I  would  bid  him 
ponder  the  thought  of  a  selected  life.  I 
would  bid  him  note  hoiv  he  has  been  selected, 
why  he  has  been  selected.  I  would  bid  him 
accept  his  destiny. 

But  while  it  would  be  easy  to  talk  with 
one  man  alone  of  these  things  that  lie  so  near 
to  his  personality,  it  is  not  difficult,  because 
of  the  intense  love  and  sympathy  I  feel  to- 
ward young  men,  to  speak  to  each  one  of 
you,  in  this  hour,  with  a  clear  and  impressive 
sense  of  your  individuality.     The  message, 

15 


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Selected  Lives 

then,  is  this :  the  selected  life ;  the  mode  of 
its  selection;  the  end  of  its  selection;  the 
acceptance  of  destiny. 

First  and  chiefly,  the  Selected  Life.     I  can 
conceive  of  nothing  to  which  a  noble  soul 
responds  more  profoundly  than  to  the  sense 
of  being  a  selected  life :   a  life  chosen,  set 
apart,  exalted  from  the  mass,  specialized  unto 
a  purpose.     We  have  read  to-day  the  splen- 
did story  of  the  anointing  of  David;*  of  the 
mystic  purpose  that  singled  him  out  from 
among  his  brethren,  that  called  him  from  the 
sheepfold,  that  would  not  let  his  life  grow 
narrow  and  rustic  and  indolent,  basking  in 
the  sun  on  upland  pastures,  but  drew  it  as 
with  the  cords  of  love  unto  a  loftier,  broader 
destiny,  drew  it  to  the  leadership   of  men, 
setting  it  apart  with  the  sacred  oil  of  a  royal 
anointing.     It  is  a  wondrous  picture:   that 
beautiful  boy,  whose  life  till  now  has  been  so 
pure,  so  natural,  so  simple,  out  upon  the  hills, 
where  he  has  watched  the  white  clouds  sail- 
ing over  him,  where  he  has  felt  the  free  wind 

*  I  Sam.  xvi.  1-13. 
16 


The  Royal  Anointing 

of  Gotl  playing  upon  him,  while  his  heart, 
unburclened  by  any  care,  has  lived  in  the 
sunny  present,  giving,  perchance,  scarcely  a 
thought  to  the  future.  But  in  the  hour  of 
his  anointing  it  dawns  upon  him  that  he  is  a 
selected  life — that  he,  yes,  he!  is  set  apart 
for  an  unusual  destiny.  What  thought  is 
greater  than  this  to  a  soul  that  is  noble  ?  To 
feel  the  anointing  of  God  upon  itself ;  to  know 
that  it  is  called  out  from  the  mass,  selected 
and  set  apart  for  something!  It  is  an  exalt- 
ing thought — so  high  that  often  at  the  first 
one  cannot  attain  unto  it.  While  we  all  know 
that  there  are  and  ever  have  been  selected 
lives,  and  while  we  all  recognize  selection  in 
others  who  by  their  gifts  and  callings  and 
opportunities  are  manifestly  set  apart  in  the 
world  as  its  leaders,  there  is  much  difficulty 
for  many  a  noble  soul  in  conceiving  of  itself 
as  one  of  the  called.  But  when  that  thought 
comes  home — when  one  is  brought  to  feel 
that  the  anointing  oil  is  upon  one's  own  brow, 
and  that  life  must  henceforth  have  meanings 
reaching  far  beyond  one's  self  and  touching 


:1 


-    'J] 


Selected  Lives 

the  destinies  of  others — the  mind  can  hold  lew 
thouL;nis  more  exalting.  A  deep  joy  rises 
in  the  soul,  "a  tide  too  full  for  sound  or 
foam,"  a  sense  of  having  caught  some  of 
Christ's  meaning  when  he  said,  "  I  came 
that  ye  might  have  life,  and  that  ye  might 
have  it  more  abundantly."  Yet  this  exalting 
thought  of  being  a  selected  life  brings  no 
pride,  no  shallow  vanity  to  a  noble  soul,  for 
it  is  also  a  most  humbling  thought.  With 
the  sense  of  one's  own  destiny  comes  a  new 
conception  of  le  broadness  of  life,  and  to 
know  that  God  has  anointed  one  for  a  pur- 
pose is  also  to  realize  the  solemn  meaning  of 
living  and  the  disproportion  between  one's 
powers  and  one's  calling.  The  more  sure  we 
are  that  our  lives  have  been  selected  from  the 
mass  for  a  purpose,  the  more  conscious  do  we 
become  of  the  deficiencies  in  ourselves  that 
threaten  to  hinder,  if  not  to  prevent,  the  ful- 
filment of  our  calling.  And  thus  the  exalt- 
ing thought,  which  is  so  truly  the  humbling 
thought,  becomes  also  the  sanctifying  thought. 

The  man  on  whom  is  dawning  the  conception 

i8 


The  Academic  Brotherliood 


of  his  own  hfe  as  n  "-jlcctctl  hfc  begins  to  feel 
the  sacrodness  of  living.  He  sees  th;»t  he  is 
not  his  own,  that  lie  is  chosen  and  ortlained 
for  special  duty  in  the  kingdom  of  God,  for 
special  service  in  the  world  of  men.  And 
the  spirit  of  consecration  enters  into  his  life 
— the  desire  to  accept  his  destiny  and  to  be 
made  worthy  of  it. 

Why  do  I  place  all  this  so  earnestly  before 
you  to-day?  Because  I  regard  you  as  a 
body  of  selected  lives.  The  fact  that  you 
are  here,  in  the  university  circle,  in  the  aca- 
demic brotherhood,  constitutes  you  members 
of  a  selected  class  in  the  world.  Academic 
training  confers  a  distinction  upon  men,  sets 
them  apart  from  the  mass,  specializes  their 
opportunity,  pours  upon  their  foreheads  the 
drops  of  a  holy  anointing.  To  claim  this 
distinction  for  college  men  is  to  claim  no 
more  than  facts  will  justify.  Because  you 
are  members  of  a  great  and  populous  univer- 
sity, because  you  are  accustomed  to  congre- 
gate   as    a    small    army    among   yourselves, 

because  those  of  us  who  deal  much  with  col- 

19 


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.  i 


\  ■ 


'    ']   ■■  ijM: 

i    111' 

■  ill 

' 

b  1  ^-    } 

Im  ■ 

' 

r  j-i  i 

;     i 
1 

=  '^  1 , 

1 

Schxted  Lives 


!!• 


lege  problems  are  impressed  with  the  growth 
and  expansion  of  student  life  in  this  country, 
we  ar^  all  likely  to  overestimate  the  propor- 
tion of  college  men  in  the  population  of  the 
United  States.  But  it  can  be  shown  by  most 
carefully  prepc.  ;ed  statistics  how  relatively 
small  is  the  student  class,  and  how,  for  every 
young  man  entering  the  academic  circle,  hun- 
dreds must  be  denied  the  exalted  privileges 
of  that  noble  circle,  save  as  we  who  have  had 
those  privileges,  and  have  by  means  of  them 
become  a  selected  class,  shall  know  the  mean- 
ing of  God's  anointing  upon  ourselves,  and 
shall  go  forth  as  lights  in  the  world,  holding 
forth  the  word  of  life,  to  those  who  have  not 
been  called  with  our  calling. 

One  difficulty  stands  in  the  way  of  your 
realizing  that  you  are  all — every  one  of  you 
— selected  lives,  anointed  and  set  apart  for 
special  influence  in  the  world.  That  difficulty 
is  the  fact  that  within  the  university  are  such 
marked  differences  not  only  in  the  capacity 
of  men  to  be  leaders,  but  in  the  disposition 
of  men  to  live  nobly.     There  must  be  striking 


ao 


mm 


^m 


Diversities  of  Gifts 

diiTerences  of  capacity  among  you.  Doubt- 
less you  have  natural  leaders  among  you : 
men  of  brilliant  personality  and  singular 
forcefulness,  who  come  to  the  front  in  your 
counsels  and  achievements  by  a  kind  of  natu- 
ral and  involuntary  selection  ;  men  who  would 
probably  have  been  leaders  anywhere,  out  of 
college  or  in  college.  And  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  many  a  quieter  man,  many  a  man 
less  richly  endowed  with  the  fascinating  gifts 
of  personality,  is  often  depressed  as  he  mea- 
sures his  own  lesser  influence  against  these 
born  leaders,  judging  them  to  be  selected  to 
a  class  from  which  he  has  been  left  out.  But 
the  thought  I  am  presenting  to-day  is  larger 
than  that  which  takes  note  of  the  scaling  of 
personal  gifts.  It  is  a  thought  that  includes 
every  man  among  you  in  the  class  of  selected 
lives,  on  whom  God  has  poured  a  holy  anoint- 
ing. Your  academic  life  is  your  anointing. 
You  are  selected  because  you  are  here,  and 
because  of  what  you  should  be  made  by 
being  here.  In  every  grouping  of  men  there 
will  be  gradings  of  power — some  men  more 

21 


m 


hi 


■i     ■  . 


i 


I  i     .J 


I 

c 


^flii 


'   I 


SBSSS 


991 


Selected  Lives 


'  I 


evidently  born  for  leadership  than  others. 
Even  among  the  twelve  apostles  there  were 
gradings  of  power  and  a  few  natural  leaders. 
Yet  all  were  called  and  selected  and  set  apart 
by  Christ  to  go  out  into  the  world  and  to 
spread  the  light  of  his  coming  up  and  down 
the  world.  And  you,  whatever  the  gradings 
of  power  among  you,  are  all  called,  even  from 
the  least  to  the  greatest,  to  go  out  into  the 
mass  of  the  world  from  which  you  have  been 
singled  and  set  apart,  that  you  may  be  chil- 
dren of  God  in  the  midst  of  a  crooked  and 
perverse  generation,  among  whom  you  are 
seen  as  lights  in  the  world,  holding  forth  the 
word  of  life.  And  the  same  is  true  in  regard 
to  the  different  dispositions  which  may  be 
found  among  you  toward  living  nobly.  Your 
capacities  may  differ,  while  yet  you  are  all 
called  and  selected ;  so  also  your  moral  dis- 
positions may  differ,  while  yet  you  are  all 
called  and  selected,  from  the  noblest  to  the 
most  ignoble.  There  must  be  earnest  men 
here,  brave  with  a  most  exalted  purpose, 
conscious  that  God  has  selected  and  anointed 

22 


fe 


Why  were   We  Selected^ 

them  for  great  ends.  And  there  may  be 
men  here  far  less  earnest,  devoid  of  the  spirit 
of  consecration,  idle,  irresolute,  yes,  loving 
darkness  rather  than  light.  Yet  tJiey  are 
selected  lives  and  anointed  lives  as  much  as 
the  others,  by  virtue  of  their  being  in  this 
academic  brotherhood ;  and  the  carelessness 
of  their  lives  is  a  more  serious  and  melan- 
choly perversion  of  good  because  it  is  the 
denial  of  God's  anointing  and  the  misuse  of 
special  privilege.  By  the  rule  Christ  himself 
laid  down — "  To  whom  much  is  given,  of  him 
shall  much  be  required  " — it  is  more  grievous 
for  a  college  man  to  live  ignobly  than  for 
another,  for  his  is  the  greater  light,  his  the 
higher  calling,  his  the  more  royal  anointing. 
But  how  came  this  selection,  my  brothers, 
to  be  set  on  us?  How  is  it  we  are  here, 
while  others  whom  we  have  known  are  not 
here  and  can  never  be  here  ?  How  were  we 
singled  out  and  selected  to  live  within  this 
academic  circle,  closed  against  hundreds  of 
our  contemporaries?  Ah,  that  is  a  deep 
question;  deep  and  far-reaching  must  be  its 

23 


f 


\r 


^ 


Selected  Lives 

answer.  Dotbiless  many  of  us  are  here 
through  the  consecrated  self-denial  of  others 
on  our  behalf.  There  are  those  who  love  us, 
who  think  they  see  in  us  signs  of  God's  se- 
lecting grace,  who  have  borne  and  are  bear- 
ing mighty  burdens,  that  we  through  their 
poverty  might  be  made  rich  with  the  intel- 
lectual and  spiritual  wealth  of  the  academic 
life.  I  know  the  fathers  who  are  practising 
heroic  self-privation,  some  of  them  in  remote 
and  ill-paid  pastorates,  that  their  sons  may 
enter  manhood  within  this  circle  of  selected 
lives.  I  know  the  young  sister  who  is  hoard- 
ing her  scant  income  as  a  teacher,  that  her 
younger  brother  may-  not  lack  the  privilege 
of  a  European  university.  Doubtless  many 
of  us  are  here  through  the  mystic  influence 
of  heredity.  The  strain  of  intellectual  ten- 
dency is  in  our  blood,  an  ancestral  heritage. 
We  were  projected  into  this  circle  by  the 
momentum  of  an  intellectual  predestination, 
gathering  force,  it  may  be,  from  colonial 
times.     Our  selection  was  prenatal.     We  are 

what  we  are  because  our  fathers  and  their 

24 


For  what  are  We  Selected^ 


fathers  were  what  they  were.  And  doubtless 
many  of  us  are  here  through  the  direct  and 
obvious  calling  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  I  doubt 
whether  Christ's  selection  of  his  apostles  was 
more  emphatic  or  more  individualistic  than 
his  call  and  selection  of  some  of  us  to  come 
into  this  circle,  and  live  his  life,  and  follow  in 
his  train,  and  go  out  into  our  generation  and 
be  seen  in  it  as  lights  in  the  world,  holding 
forth  the  word  of  life.  Can  any  one  of  us 
entertain  the  belief  that  he  is  here  because  of 
Christ's  choosing,  and  not  offer  up  his  very 
life  to  Christ  in  full  response,  saying,  with 
Johann  SchefHer: 

"  O  Love,  who  ere  life's  earliest  dawn 
On  me  thy  choice  hast  gently  laid ; 

O  Love,  who  here  as  Man  wast  born. 
And  wholly  like  to  us  wast  made ; 

O  Love,  I  give  myself  to  thee, 

Thine  ever,  only  thine,  to  be." 

And  unto  what  are  we  selected  ?  What  is 
the  end  and  object  of  the  distinction  conferred 
on  men  by  their  academic  training?  It  is — 
to  speak  the  apostolic  word  with  direct  refer- 
ence to  the  national  and  social  and  spiritual 

25 


!     ^1 


..jT'H-Ji..^;  — 


m^ 


Selected  Lives 


i 


questions  of  our  own  country  and  of  our  own 
time — it  is  that  we  may  stand  in  the  midst  of 
our  crooked  and  perverse  generation,  our 
generation  which  has  so  many  distorted  ideas 
and  unwholesome  practices,  and  be  as  lights 
in  the  world,  holding  forth  the  word  of  life. 
It  is  that  we  may  show  in  ourselves  and  pro- 
mote in  others  nobler  citizenship,  politically, 
socially,  spiritually.  It  was  many  years  ago 
that  Benson,  the  fine-spirited  Arclibishop  of 
Canterbury,  who  died  so  suddenly  at  Ha- 
warden,  said,  in  his  impassioned  way,  to  the 
boys  at  Wellington  College :  '*  As  citizens 
men  despise  their  birthrghts."  We  have 
been  c(  mpelled  to  witness  much  of  thit  de- 
spising of  the  civic  birthright  on  this  side  of 
the  sea ;  much  of  a  corrupt  citizenship,  sell- 
ing its  birthright  for  money,  estimating  the 
public  service  by  its  gains.  God  forbid  that 
I  should  seem  to  imply  that  the  line  dividing 
the  noble  from  the  ignoble  in  the  ethics  of 
citizenship  is  the  collegiate  education;  that 
the  citizens  who  honor  their  birthright  are 
not  numerously  found  among  those  who  never 

a6 


I;! 


Academic  Citizenship 

matriculated  in  college.  Patriotism  in  its 
purest  form  may  be  found  in  every  social 
order  of  our  land.  But  I  do  affirm  the  pe- 
culiarly great  opportunities  given  to  him  who 
combines  with  a  pure  spirit  a  liberiil  educa- 
tion, to  become  a  light  in  the  world,  a  leader 
of  his  countrymen  toward  higher  and  broader 
conceptions  of  national  honor  and  of  civic 
duty.  The  college  man  in  politics  is  the 
salvation  of  the  present  and  the  hope  of  the 
future.  Training  tells.  The  untrained  mind 
may  be  as  lofty  in  its  intention  as  the  mind 
of  a  scholar.  But  the  academic  discipline 
joined  with  the  academic  point  of  view  are 
indispensable  for  statesmanship;  and  what 
this  country  chiefly  needs  is  a  race  of  states- 
men, selected  lives,  trained  in  the  university 
to  estimate  upon  the  historic  basis  the  trend 
of  events,  nurtured  in  the  university  upon  the 
ideals  of  a  fervent,  white-souled  patriotism, 
kindled  in  the  university  with  that  sublime 
ambition  to  serve  the  state  for  the  state's 
sake  which  makes  citizenship  a  high  profes- 

sion  and  the  birthright  within  the  nation  a 

27 


I)  1 1] 


■'V 


f\ 


% 


il 


'1 


1  ■'  1 

1 

i      ;f      1 

I;,, 

\     '  iil 

'  -     '  ■ '  if ^ 

■ ' '   '  1  «4 

i  t  iKm 

'     vSif 

i 

W^ 

m  )l 


I       I 


(I 


I  I 


Selected  Lives 

holy  and  unsullied  trust.  It  is  a  great  thing 
to  go  forth  as  a  collegian  into  the  vast  terri- 
tory of  philanthropic,  moral,  and  Christian 
opportunity.  It  is  a  great  thing  to  be  a  col- 
legian in  these  latter  days,  and  to  have  part 
in  this  mighty  expansion  of  sociology  as  a 
practical  science.  It  is  a  great  thing  to  be  a 
collegian  and  to  carry  the  skill  and  fire  of  an 
academic  training  into  the  moral  movement 
of  our  day.  It  is  a  great  thing  to  be  a  colle- 
gian in  these  times,  and  in  the  holy  ministry 
of  Jesus  to  go  out  and  preach  a  simple  Chris- 
tianity, a  more  fraternal  and  catholic  church- 
manship,  a  gospel  whose  spirit  is  first  of  all 
and  above  all  the  missionary  spirit. 

Selected  lives,  called  by  the  Spirit  and  the 
providence  of  God  into  peculiar  privilege 
and  specialized  opportunity,  accept  your  des- 
tiny. It  is  within  your  grasp,  to  have  and  to 
hold,  or  to  reject  and  to  throw  away.  God 
puts  your  opportunity  into  your  hand.  If 
you  use  it  your  life  will  be  a  victory ;  if  you 
put  it  from  you  some  other  man  will  gladly 
seize  it  and  conquer  where  you  failed.     May 

28 


Our  Opportunity 

I  not  in  this  place  speak — not  into  your  ears 
only,  into  your  very  hearts — the  message  of 
a  Yale  man  of  the  class  of  '6i,  Edward  Row- 
land Sill?  It  is  his  wonderful  parable  of  op- 
portunity, a  parable  for  each  selected  life  to 
ponder:  of  the  coward  who  flung  away  his 
sword  upon  a  vain  excuse,  and  of  the  king's 
son,  he  on  whose  brow  were  the  drops  of  the 
royal  anointing,  who  seized  the  sword  the 
coward  flung  away  and  with  it  won  a  splendid 
triumph  for  the  cause  of  truth : 

"  This  I  beheld— or  dreamed  it  in  a  dream: 
There  spread  a  cloud  of  dust  along  a  plain ; 
And  underneath  the  cloud,  or  in  it,  raged 
A  furious  battle,  and  men  yelled,  .-ad  swords 
Shocked  upon  swords  and  shields.  A  prince's  banner 
Wavered,  then  staggered  backward,  hemmed  by  foes. 
A  craven  hung  along  the  battle's  edge, 
And  thought :   '  Had  I  a  sword  of  keener  steel, — 
That  blue  blade  that  the  king's  son  bears, — but  this 
Blunt  thing! — '  he  snapt  and  flung  it  from  his  hand. 
And  lowering  crept  away  and  left  the  field. 
Then  came  the  king's  son,  wounded,  sore  bestead. 
And  weaponless,  and  saw  the  broken  sword. 
Hilt-buried  in  the  dry  and  trodden  sand, 
And  ran  and  snatched  it,  and,  with  battle-shout 
Lifted  afresh,  he  hewed  his  enemy  down 
And  saved  a  great  cause  that  heroic  day." 


I ,       Ik] 


I 


■   1.5  I 


i    'I 


P  1'. 


I 


29 


The  Part  We  Know 


s 


'  ,5 


By 

Alexander  McKcnzie,  D.D. 

Minister  of  the  First  Church  in  Cambridge 

"  Sihcr  and  gold  have  I  none;  but  suck  as  /  have  give  J 
thee." — ^cts  in.  6. 

THESE  are  very  simple  words.  The 
thought  is  neither  original  nor  pro- 
found, but  it  has  always  been  a  popular  verse. 
Perhaps  this  is  because  we  are  so  often  asked 
to  give  what  we  cannot  give,  or  we  require 
ourselves  to  do  what  we  cannot  do,  that  there 
is  special  encouragement  in  being  told  on 
high  authority  that  we  can  only  do  what  we 
can  and  give  what  we  have. 

The  incident  itself  is  familiar.  A  man 
lame  from  his  birth  was  laid  at  the  Beautiful 
Gate  of  the  Temple  at  the  time  of  the  even- 
ing  worship.     He   saw  the   two    Galileans, 

30 


1.  I! 


w 


/oCe.^  ^  t^^S'c^  //& 


I 


!l 


,   ^ 


I 


h 

t  b 


The  Value  of  Money 

Peter  and  John,  entering  in,  and  he  looked  to 
them  for  an  alms.  They  fastened  their  eyes 
i4K)ii  his  longing  eyes,  and  Peter  said,  "  Sil- 
ver and  gold  have  I  none."  It  was  .silver 
and  gold  the  man  wanted,  and  his  rising  hope 
fell  into  disappointment.  But  Peter  fmished 
his  sentence,  "Such  as  I  have  give  I  thee," 
and  the  man  was  content.  The  first  words 
are  of  little  account,  save  as  a  natural  begin 
ning.  The  latter  words  hold  the  force  of  the 
sentence.  It  was  of  no  consequence  to  Peter 
or  to  the  man  what  the  apostle  had  not ;  the 
strength  was  entirely  on  the  positive  side. 
**  What  I  have  "  is  in  itself  a  strong  sentence. 
Happily,  that  which  he  had  was  in  itself  of 
much  greater  value  than  that  which  he  lacked. 
Silver  and  gold  are  of  great  worth,  but  they 
cannot  do  all  things.  They  can  build  a  hos- 
pital, but  they  cannot  create  physicians. 
They  can  endow  a  college,  but  they  cannot 
make  scholars.  When  we  call  the  physician 
to  our  necessity  we  do  not  care  whether  he 
has  silver  and  gold  or  not,  and  men  have 
been  eminent  as  college  professors  who  were 

31 


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f. 


r  if 


A,. 

m 


t;  ! 


I: 


•1  .        r 


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k 


The  Part  We  Know 


)  I' 
{  i: 


/  I- 


II 


in  no  wise  distinguished  by  their  wealth. 
Indeed,  the  need  of  silver  and  gold  may  be  a 
stimulus  to  exertion,  as  when  the  great  Eng- 
lish lawyer  spraiig  suddenly  into  his  first 
great  cause  and  great  fame,  and  assigned  as 
the  reason  for  his  remarkable  effort  that  he 
felt  his  children  pulling  at  his  gown  and  cry- 
ing, "  Father,  give  us  bread."  On  the  other 
hand,  the  possession  of  wealth  may  lessen  the 
exertion.  When  Thomas  Aquinas  visited 
Innocent  IV.,  the  pope  displayed  the  great 
treasures  of  the  church  and  boasted,  "The 
time  has  gone  by  when  the  church  must  say, 
'  Silver  and  gold  have  I  none.'  "  "  Yes,"  was 
the  answer  of  the  saintly  doctor,  "  and  the 
time  has  gone  by  when  the  church  can  say  to 
a  lame  man,  *  Rise  up  and  walk.'  "  The  wise 
man  knows  the  use  of  wealth,  while  he  keeps 
himself  independent  of  it.  It  was  a  fine  as- 
sertion of  independence  made  by  the  English 
prelate  at  New  Zealand,  when  the  authorities 
in  England  warned  him  that  if  he  persisted  in 
his  course  they  should  cut  down  his  salary. 
"  You  can  get  very  good  fish  here  in  the 


3a 


mm 


PM 


■iPiimiiii 


5991 


Variety  in  Helpfulness 

bay,"  he  said,  "and  I  know  a  place  in  the 
woods  where  you  can  dig  up  roots  that  you 
can  eat.  '  What  could  be  more  absurd  than 
the  attempt  to  control  through  his  salary  the 
utterances  of  a  man  who  can  live  on  roots! 

But  if  we  are  not  to  have  silver  and  gold, 
let  us  by  all  means  have  something.  There 
is  so  great  variety  in  the  wants  of  men  that 
there  is  great  variety  in  the  help  which  can 
be  given  to  them.  Think  how  many  things 
might  have  been  done  for  this  lame  man. 
He  could  have  been  furnished  with  money; 
he  could  have  been  furnished  with  sound  feet 
and  ankle-bones;  one  who  could  have  done 
nothing  more  might  have  moved  him  into  a 
comfortable  position  against  the  wall,  or  have 
drawn  his  rug  over  his  feet,  or  brought  him  a 
piece  of  bread  or  a  cup  of  water.  But  the 
man  in  his  want  represents  the  world  and  its 
necessities,  and  suggests  the  varied  opportu- 
nities calling  for  whatever  endowment  of 
skill  or  strength  one  may  possess.  Peter  was 
able  to  give  to  him  the  best  gift  when  with 
the  divine  power  intrusted  to  him  he  Hfted 

33 


h 


I;    ' 


II 


a 


,■  ,v 


Hi 


•ti  i 


It  '\M 


■Pi 


The  Part  We  Know 


1 


f    ' 


up  a  man  who  had  never  stood  upon  his  feet 
and  gave  him  strength  to  take  up  the  work 
of  Hfe  and  to  walk  in  its  pleasant  places. 
This  was  Peter's  grace.  It  may  not  be  yours 
or  mine,  but  it  is  given  to  every  one  of  us  to 
have  something  which  the  world  needs  and 
which  we  can  give  as  the  manifesting  of  our 
life.  Let  us  make  sure,  by  all  means,  that 
we  have  something  which  the  world  needs, 
and  that  we  are  usiii.^;  wi;  ■  we  have,  not 
hindered  by  what  we  lack.  Negative  lives 
are  of  small  value.  Negative  acts,  if  there 
are  such  things,  are  not  worthy  of  men  in  the 
serious  work  of  life.  The  phrase  sometimes 
used  of  an  act  which  we  like  to  perform,  that 
"  there  is  no  harm  in  it,"  is  not  v/orthy  of  a 
man.  It  is  not  what  an  act  does  not  have  in 
it,  but  what  an  act  does  have  in  it.  Lhat  should 
enlist  our  care.  An  act  with  nc  hinn  in  it  is 
a  purse  with  no  money  in  it;  It  i'^  '•  >^  jqual 
to  the  needs  of  our  daily  life,  while  we  are 
easily  able  to  have  money  in  our  purse.  The 
requirements  of  God  do  not  stop  at  the  nega- 
tives.   "Do  not  covet"  means'  T.ove."    "Do 

34 


The  Positive  Life 


not  lie  "  means  "  Tell  the  truth."  "  Do  not 
steal"  means  "Give."  For  our  own  sake  and 
for  the  world's  sake  let  us  keep  on  this  side  of 
possession  and  accomplishment.  A  colorless 
life  is  of  no  honor  and  no  use.  To  commend  a 
man  for  having  no  fault  is  often  to  reproach  a 
man  for  having  no  virtue.  Stand  for  some- 
thing ;  have  a  place  and  be  a  force  in  the  world. 
They  asked  John  the  Baptist  who  he  was. 
He  made  little  account  of  what  he  was  not, 
and  we  are  not  impressed  by  his  words,  **  I 
am  not  the  Christ.  I  am  not  that  prophet." 
It  is  the  positive  side  of  his  declaration  which 
marks  the  man  and  asserts  his  force :  "  I  am 
the  voice."  The  two  great  confessions  in 
the  midst  of  the  gospel  are  confessions  upon 
the  positive  side :  "  Thou  art  the  Christ,  the 
Son  of  the  living  God."  "Thou  art  Peter, 
and  on  this  rock  will  I  build  my  church." 
Stand  for  something.  There  is  an  expression 
of  great  strength  used  by  St.  Paul  in  writing 
to  the  Corinthian  church :  "  Ye  are  members 
in  particular  "  ;  not  "  members,"  not  "  mem- 
bers in  general,"  not  "  members  upon  the 

35 


t  * 


t 

!   1 

1 

■■  )^^ 

Ml 

.  1 

i 

■H 


I 


i 


!; 


.; 


f: 


The   Part  We  Know 

catalogue,"  but  members  with  a  definite  place 
and  work  and  honor  and  reward — "  members 
in  particular."  I  am  walking  with  you,  and 
I  point  to  a  man  whom  we  see  upon  the 
street,  and  I  say,  "  Who  is  that  man  ?  "  You 
answer,  "  He  is  nobody  in  particular."  "  But 
he  is  a  man,  is  he  not?  "  "  Oh  yes;  he  lives 
here;  I  meet  him  frequently;  you  will  find 
his  name  in  the  city  directory.  But  that  is 
all;  he  is  nobody  in  particular."  Another 
day  we  meet  another  man,  perhaps  more 
plainly  dressed,  more  simple  in  his  bearing, 
and  I  repeat  my  question,  "  Who  is  that 
man?  "  "  That  man?  Why,  that  is  the  fin- 
est lawyer  in  the  town.  That  man  was 
governor  of  the  connnonwealth.  That  man 
is  the  leading  professor  in  the  college." 
*'  Ah,  I  see ;  you  have  not  told  me  his  name, 
but  you  have  told  me  the  man.  He  is  what 
St.  Paul  meant;  he  is  somebody  *  in  particu- 
lar.'" 

A  positive  life  is  the  life  of  the  highest 
accomplishment  and  is  lived  in  the  highest 
domain.     There  are  many  things  that  we  do 

36 


Knowledge  More  than  Ignorance 

not   know.     There   is  a  part  of  everything 
that  we  do  not  know.     We  are  all  under- 
graduates in  the  university  of  life.     But  we 
know  in  part ;  that  is,  in  part  we  know.     So 
St.  Paul  teaches  us.      Use  that  part.     What 
we  do  not  know  is  of  Httle  practical  value 
compared  with  the  part  that  we  do  know. 
If  I  may  adapt  the  saying,  our  knowledge, 
however  small,  is  of  greater  account  than  our 
ignorance,  however    great.     We    should  be 
very  glad  that  it  is  only  a  part  that  we  know. 
Life  would  be  dismal  indeed  if  we  had  reached 
the  limit  of  truth  upon  any  of  its  broad  lines; 
if  there  were  no  more  great  verities  than  we 
have  compassed  or  can  soon  compass  ;  if  duty 
and  truth  and  life  were  all  held  within  our 
slender  grasp ;  if  there  were  no  more  of  glory 
and  honor  and  immortality  than  we  can  see 
and  understand  and  value  and  make  our  own. 
It  is  the  almost  limitless  extent  of  truth  which 
makes  it  divine,  and  the  endless  years  that 
are  awaiting  us  are  to  be  filled  with  the  end- 
less attainment  of  knowledge  and  grace  and 
life.     St.  Paul,  with  all  his  visions  of  eternal 


i» 


^11 


The  Part  We  Know 


grace  and  life,  rejoiced  to  confess,  reveled  in 
the  confession,  that  that  in  which  he  was  liv- 
ing passed  his  knowledge.  So  St.  John,  ris- 
ing to  his  sublime  conception  of  the  character 
of  the  saints,  poured  out  his  exultant  heart  in 
the  great  confession,  "  Beloved,  now  are  we 
the  sons  of  God,  and  it  doth  not  yet  appear 
what  we  shall  be."  But  while  they  knew  in 
part  they  used  the  part  they  knew;  they 
rested  their  own  life  upon  it ;  they  gave  it  to 
others  for  their  learning;  they  breathed  it 
upon  the  world  for  its  inspiration ;  they  be- 
lieved in  the  steadily  rising  sun  and  the  day 
that  eternally  shall  grow  brigliterand  brighter. 
It  is  little  to  say  that  our  knowledge,  too,  is 
in  part.  Our  knowledge  of  God  is  very  far 
from  perfect.  We  believe  in  God,  the  Father 
Almighty.  We  know  the  love  of  God.  We 
rejoice  in  his  providence.  But  no  man  hath 
seen  God  at  any  time,  nor  can  see  him.  Yet 
upon  this  knowledge  of  God  which  we  do 
possess  we  build  a  life  of  confidence,  obedi- 
ence, atfection,  the  strong  life  of  a  child  of 
God   to  whom   there   comes   the   continual 

38 


msaasaa 


^    \ 


The  Obedience  ot  Our  Verities 

growth  in  all  that  is  godly  and  divine  in  the 
power  of  an  endless  life.  We  know  Jesus 
Christ,  our  Lord  and  Saviour.  We  know 
that  the  eternal  Word  was  made  flesh  and  has 
dwelt  among  us.  We  know  that  life  of  divine 
beauty  and  help.  We  know  the  parables  of 
truth  and  the  miracles  of  mercy,  anci  that  he 
loved  the  world  and  gave  himself  for  it,  the 
Lamb  of  God,  the  Saviour  of  men,  forever- 
more  Redeemer  and  Intercessor.  But  the 
method  of  the  incarnation  we  do  not  know. 
The  full  secret  of  redemption  we  cannot  trace. 
The  secret  working  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  the 
souls  of  men  we  cannot  define.  Yet  we  open 
our  hearts  to  the  Comforter;  we  intrust  our- 
selves to  the  Redeemer;  we  follow  him  who 
is  the  light  and  the  life  of  men.  We  know 
in  part,  but  the  part  we  know  is  the  part  we 
use.  To  use  the  pari  we  know  is  to  know 
more.  Not  the  fondling  of  our  doubts,  but 
the  obedience  of  our  verities  leads  up  the 
heights  of  knowledge. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  better  illustration  of 
the  method  of  life  which  is  here  commended 

39 


If 


'1 


The  Part  We  Know 


h\ 


than  that  which  is  given  in  the  gospel  in  the 
case  of  the  man  who  was  born  bhnd.  His 
ignorance  was  very  great  and  his  knowledge 
was  very  small.  Christ  came  that  way,  and 
spoke  to  him,  and  bade  him  go  wash  in  the 
pool  of  Siloam.  The  man  heard  the  voice, 
understood  the  direction,  went  down  the  hill, 
and  in  that  very  act  made  the  beginning  of  a 
Christian  life,  for  he  had  done  at  Christ's 
word,  though  he  had  never  seen  Christ,  what 
no  one  else  had  ever  done,  what  he  had  never 
dreamed  of  doing,  what  no  other  one  would 
ever  have  asked  him  to  do.  He  knew  that 
he  was  told  to  go  and  wash  in  Siloam,  and  he 
went.  He  came  back  seeing,  and  his  trouble 
began.  His  life  had  been  an  easy  one,  nar- 
row, dull,  but  free  from  great  anxiety  or  large 
exertion.  From  that  time  men  who  should 
have  rejoiced  in  the  gift  which  came  to  him 
gathered  around  him  to  annoy  him  and  accuse 
him,  to  make  his  new  sight  a  burden  to  him ; 
and  even  his  father  and  mother,  to  whom  he 
might  have  looked  for  sympathy,  turned  upon 

him  the  hard  faces  which  seemed  to  make  it 

40 


The  Wise  Blind  Man 


i)    li 


n 


n 


hardly  worth  the  while  to  be  able  to  look 
upon  the  features  of  a  friend.  The  poor 
man's  ignorance  was  appalling,  but  shrewdly 
he  took  hold  of  what  he  knew  and  worked 
simply  with  that.  "This  man  is  a  sinner," 
people  said  to  him.  They  denounced,  and 
they  would  have  him  denounce,  the  stranger 
who  had  given  him  his  sight.  To  all  their 
reasoning  he  could  make  no  answer.  He 
was  wise  in  keeping  himself  free  from  what 
he  did  not  know.  And  finally,  when  they 
had  worried  and  badgered  him  to  the  last, 
he  cried  out  with  the  wit  and  shrewdness  of 
a  man  who  had  done  much  thinking,  with  a 
poor  appeal  to  pity  in  this  confusion  of  his 
new  g'^t ;  still  clinging  to  the  part  he  knew, 
he  cried  out  in  this  wise :  "Gentlemen,  have 
compassion  upon  me.  I  am  a  poor  man.  I 
have  never  had  any  chance.  I  have  never 
been  to  school.  I  cannot  answer  you.  I  do 
not  know  an5'thing  about  these  things  you 
are  throwing  at  me.  Whether  he  be  a  sinner 
or  no  I  know  not.  One  thing  I  know :  that, 
whereas  I  was  blind,  now  I  see."     On  that 

41 


■'i 


y 


iRir 

I 


i    I 


m 


i' 


1 


'n' 


'1 

m- 

^5r ' 

r.  i' 

Mk 

m. 

■    1 

K&'- 

*    1 

w 

i    u 

!«: 

>    1 

a 

y:i 

'M 

1 1 


The  Part  Wo  Know 


"  pin-point  of  his  experience  "  he  stood,  and 
from  it  nothin<^'  could  move  hun.  Well,  they 
turned  him  out  of  the  church.  So  much 
they  could  do.  l^ut  they  could  not  turn  him 
out  of  himself  or  away  from  Christ.  Jesus 
met  him,  for  he  heard  that  they  had  cast  him 
out,  and  he  turned  a  compassionate  look  upon 
the  new  eyes  and  said,  "  Dost  thou  believe 
on  the  Son  of  God?"  Mark  the  answer. 
"  If  I  knew  who  he  was,  I  think  I  should 
believe  on  him" — it  was  not  that  he  said. 
It  was  a  forward,  straight-out  confession: 
"  Who  is  he.  Lord,  that  I  might  believe  on 
him?"  "Thou  hast  both  seen  him,  and  he 
it  is  that  speaketh  with  thee."  And  he  said, 
"  Lord,  I  believe,"  and  he  worshiped  him. 
Thus  from  the  first  moment  when  Jesus  spoke 
to  him  to  this  last  moment  of  revelation  the 
man  born  blind  stood  in  front  of  his  ignorance, 
took  what  he  knew,  used  what  he  knew, 
worked  what  he  knew  into  his  life,  and  be- 
came the  confessor,  the  first  man  to  suffer  for 
his  faith  in  Jesus  Christ.  What  wonder  that 
one  of  our  most  brilliant,  philosophic  preach- 

42 


Advance  in  KnowUdge 


! 


crs  should  say,  "  When  I  would  know  just 
what  Christianity  is  in  its  last  analysis  I  must 
make  a  careful  study  of  what  passed  between 
Jesus  and  the  man  born  blind  "  ? 

The  times  that  we  are  living  in  greatly 
need  this  practical  method.  It  is  a  day  of 
negation.  Great  questions  of  religion  and  of 
life  are  under  discussion.  Nothing  escapes 
the  scrutiny  of  the  eager,  restless  mind  of 
man.  Out  of  this  time  of  removal  the  great 
truths  will  come,  and  they  will  not  sufTer 
shock.  Meantime  it  is  a  period  of  unrest, 
and  with  many  a  period  of  increased  uncer- 
tainty. With  the  best  intentions,  they  feel 
less  assured  concerning  many  matters  of  faith 
which  they  have  held  of  great  account.  But 
study  cannot  be  checked,  searching  cannot  be 
repressed,  and  we  must  wait  in  faith  and  pa- 
tience, in  the  quiet  confidence  that  the  things 
which  cannot  and  ought  not  to  be  shaken  will 
remain.  But  for  »i\rselves,  for  our  personal 
life,  for  our  influence  in  the  world,  the  only 
manly  rule  is  that  which  is  suggested  to  us 
here  by  the  blind  man  and  by  the  apostle — 

43 


:    \ 


f 


The  Part  We  Know 


to  use  what  we  have,  and  in  the  faithful 
employment  of  what  we  know  to  gain  the 
steady  accession  of  knowledge,  the  constant 
increase  of  its  truth  and  pov^er.  If  it  be 
necessary  to  write  over  many  a  page  "  Silver 
and  gold  have  I  none,"  we  certainly  are  able 
to  write  over  many  another  page  "  Such  as  I 
have."  This  is  the  time  for  using  what  we 
have,  and  this  is  the  place.  The  life  in  a 
university  is  too  young  to  be  mortgaged  to 
ignorance.  With  the  face  set  forward,  with 
willing  ears  waiting  for  t^e  call  of  duty,  we 
are  to  be  assured  that  i  a  positive  living 
which  is  called  for,  the  use  of  what  is  in  hand. 
It  is  in  this  way  that  all  advance  in  study  is 
made.  We  go  from  the  alphabet  that  we 
know  into  the  literature  that  stretches  its 
endless  reach  beyond  us.  We  go  from  the 
few  figures  learned  in  childhood  to  the  high 
reckonings  which  mark  the  courses  of  the 
planets.  Let  it  be  so  in  all  study :  from 
what  we  have  on  to  the  greater  having.  In 
the  use  of  what  we  have  let  us  come  to  be 
Christ's  disciples.     In  the  use  of  what   we 

44 


The  Best  Gift 


have  let  us  advance  to  higher  discipleship, 
ever  learning,  ever  teaching,  steadily  getting, 
steadily  giving.  When  we  take  account  of 
life  let  us  give  especial  heed  to  that  which 
we  have.  If  we  find  that  we  have  not  the 
means  by  which  we  might  do  some  work 
which  is  waiting  for  us,  the  result  is  not  to 
be  inactivity,  but  the  doing  some  other  work 
with  the  force  in  our  hands.  If  we  had  sil- 
ver and  gold  we  would  give  them,  but  often- 
times they  cannot  meet  the  want,  and  often- 
times they  are  poor  gifts.  Modern  charity 
has  learned  the  lesson,  and  is  striving  to  teach 
it  to  us,  that  money  is  seldom  the  best  gift  to 
the  poor,  but  the  help  to  get  money,  which 
shall  maintain  self-respect,  promote  industry 
and  all  the  virtues.  If,  some  day,  I  find  I 
have  no  silver  and  gold,  then  let  me  go  down 
to  the  Beautiful  Gate  of  the  Temple  and  work 
some  simple  miracle.  I  can  help  some  lame 
man ;  I  can  read  to  some  blind  man ;  I  can 
comfort  and  strengthen ;  I  can  bless ;  and 
even  wanting  many  things  which  might  be  of 
service,  I  can  do  those  larger  things  which 

45 


!    f 


1  ! 


iS 


If 


ill 


The  Part  We  Know 


r. 


i    \' 


I 


Christ  has  told  me  of,  saying,  "  The  works 
that  I  do  shall  ye  do  ;  and  greater  works  than 
these."  Let  us  not  forget  that  this  incident 
at  the  Temple  was  but  the  picture  of  his  life. 
Silver  and  gold  Christ  had  none.  In  not  one 
instance  in  the  gospel  did  he  give  this  kind 
of  help,  but  he  gave  men  strength  and  com- 
fort and  eternal  life.  One  thing  he  always 
had,  and  he  gave  that.  That  one  thing  every 
man  has,  and,  whatever  be  his  property,  every 
man,  like  Christ,  can  give — himself.  And  no 
man  is  poor  who  has  himself  to  give. 

Now  let  us  away !  Let  us  raise  the  sails. 
There  is  not  much  wind.  But  let  us  set 
the  sails  and  get  the  anchors  up  on  deck. 
There  will  be  a  strong  breeze  at  night,  and 
before  morning  we  shall  be  well  out  to  sea. 


46 


gjiiiiHriiaTKiirKiMf 


I       i 


III!' 


■< 


HWi 


■liasvitanBnmpviqmivpwinp 


P    <■ 


■if 


^i; 


Personality 

By 

Amory  H.  Bradford,  D.D. 

Pastor  of  tl>e  First  Congregational  Church  of  Montchiir,  N.  J. 

"Bill  liirhtiiig  upon  a  pLuc  zcUcic  huo  seas  met,  they  r 
I  he  vessel  aground."— y/cts  xxvii.  41. 


an 


WHO  can  describe  a  shipwreck? — fury 
of  waves,  terror  of  people,  howling 
of  winds,  and  roaring  of  waters!      For  four- 
teen days  this  ship  on  which  the  Roman  cen- 
turion and  his  prisoners  hatl  taken  passage 
was   driven  bv  the  wind  ;    for  fourteen  days 
there  was  sight  neither  of  sun  nor  of  stars. 
Two  hundred  and  seventy-six  persons  were 
on  board.      Strength  and  courage  were  alike 
exhausted.     There  was  no  cessation  of  the 
storm.     The  sailors  imagined  that  they  were 
drawing  near  to  land,  and,  sounding,  found 
first  a  depth  of  twenty  fathoms,  then  fifteen 

47 


I 


«5 


M\ 


I 


'   1 » 

% 

I  I 

\  i 

1! 


Personality 


s   I' 


fathoms;  then,  fearing  lest  they  should  be 
cast  on  a  rocky  shore,  they  put  out  four 
anchors  from  the  stern.  That  method  of 
anchoring  ships  was  not  uncommon  in  those 
times.  They  "wished  for  the  day."  How 
much  is  packed  into  those  words !  But  there 
was  selfishness  even  there.  The  sailors,  pro- 
fessing to  look  after  the  anchors,  lowered  one 
of  the  ship's  boats  and  were  about  to  try  to 
save  themselves  when  they  were  exposed  by 
Paul.  As  day  began  to  dawn  he  moved 
among  the  people  and  begged  them  to  take 
food,  assuring  them  that  they  should  all  be 
saved.  Not  until  he  took  the  bread  himself 
and  calmly  gave  thanks  to  God  were  they 
willing  to  eat.  A  ship  is  comparatively  safe 
in  the  open  sea,  even  if  the  waves  are  piled 
into  mountains  ;  but  when  land  is  approached 
breakers  make  quick  work  of  the  strongest 
craft.  In  the  dawning  light  they  saw  not  far 
distant  a  bay,  which  they  tried  to  reach. 
Having  thrown  overboard  the  wheat  with 
which  the  ship  was  loaded,  they  cut  loose  the 
anchors,  raised   the  sail,  and   made  for  the 

48 


«p 


Paul  and  the  Shipwreck 

haven.  Suddenly  they  came  to  a  place  where 
two  seas  met.  Then  nothing  remained  but 
to  run  the  vessel  aground.  The  soldiers  had 
to  answer  for  their  charge  with  their  lives. 
Therefore  they  advised  the  centurion  to  kill 
the  prisoners  so  that  none  should  escape.  He 
would  not  consent ;  thereupon  both  prisoners 
and  passengers  threw  themselves  into  the 
waters,  and  all  reached  land. 

We  have  seen  Paul  facing  angry  mobs; 
going  alone  through  the  mountains  of  Asia ; 
in  the  presence  of  mocking  philosophers  in 
Corinth  and  Athens;  before  the  Roman 
governor  and  the  Jewish  king;  but  we  have 
never  seen  him  in  circumstances  so  trying  as 
these.  During  weeks  of  storm  he  was  the 
good  angel  of  the  ship.  He  cheered  the 
sailors,  comforted  the  prisoners,  encouraged 
the  centurion.  When  others  expected  to  go 
to  the  bottom  he  was  confident  that  all  would 
be  saved.  Tradition  represents  him  as  of 
inferior  presence — possibly  of  limping  gait, 
very  likely  with  some  serious  affection  of  his 
eyes,  mean,  as  he  has  himself  told  us,  in  bodily 

49 


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Personality 


appearance.  His  power  was  in  his  qualities 
of  spirit,  and  those  he  never  more  superbly 
manifested  than  when  a  prisoner  on  his  way 
to  the  imperial  city.  The  greatness  of  per- 
sonality has  seldom  had  a  finer  illustration 
than  in  his  conduct  in  the  midst  of  the  ship- 
wreck. 

What  do  we  mean  by  personality  ?  It  is 
all  that  distinguishes  a  man  from  a  thing. 
When  one  is  richly  endowed  in  mind,  heart, 
and  will  he  has  a  strong  personality.  When 
the  heart  predominates  over  the  intellect  he 
has  a  sympathetic  personality.  When  am- 
bition prevails  there  is  a  malgn  personality. 
The  word  needs  little  definition  ;  its  meaning 
is  evident.  It  may  be  a  blessing  or  a  curse. 
If  it  is  used  in  the  interests  of  love  it  is  a 
blessing;  if  in  the  interests  of  selfishness  it  is  a 
curse.  Paul  was  an  eager,  impassioned,  per- 
sistent enthusiast,  a  man  of  great  intellect, 
inspired  and  fired  with  fervent  love.  His  in- 
fluence was  the  result  of  what  he  was.  Per- 
sonality is  the  sum  of  all  the  powers.  Pascal, 
in  one  of  his  immortal  "  Pensees,"  has  finely 

50 


Types  of  Heroism 

said :  "  But  were  the  universe  to  crush  him, 
man  would  still  be  more  noble  than  that 
which  kills  him,  because  he  knows  that  he 
dies,  and  the  universe  knows  nothing  of  the 
advantage  it  has  over  him."  In  other  words, 
spirit  is  mightier  than  matter,  and  personality- 
is  always  spiritual.  Will  can  never  be  con- 
quered by  force.  A  child  may  defy  a  storm  ; 
the  ocean  may  engulf  the  man  whom  it  can- 
not destroy.  I  have  never  tired  reading  of 
the  attempts  of  the  late  Professor  Tyndall  to 
scale  the  Matterhorn.  He  would  not  be  pre- 
vented from  planting  his  feet  upon  its  loftiest 
peak  and  gazing  upon  the  frozen  ocean  that 
broke  into  billo  v's  of  snow  and  ice  at  its  base. 
But  personality  is  not  so  impressive  when 
it  is  pitted  against  nature  as  when  in  a 
good  man,  alone  and  undaunted,  it  faces 
a  throng  who  are  strong  and  bad.  The 
power  one  man  may  have  over  a  multitude 
is  vividly  illustrated  in  the  story  of  that 
monk  who,  hearing  of  the  gladiatorial  ex- 
hibitions in  Rome,  made  his  way  to  ihe  ini- 
perial  city   and   the   Colosseum ;    and    who, 

51 


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111 


Personality 

as  the  brutal  sport  was  about  to  begin, 
leaped  from  tier  to  tier  of  the  crowded  seats 
into  the  arena.  Standing  before  the  gladi- 
ators with  drawn  swords,  he  cried  to  the 
spectators  in  a  voice  which  rang  through  all 
the  arches:  "Will  you  praise  God  by  the 
shedding  of  innocent  blood  ?  "  The  spectacle 
did  not  cease  that  day,  and  he  who  tried  to 
stop  it  was  run  through  by  the  swords  of  the 
gladiators,  but  not  until  he  had  given  a  death 
blow  to  the  barbarism  that  had  long  dis- 
graced the  so-called  Christian  empire. 

"  Ilis  dream  became  a  deed  that  woke  the  world, 
For  while  the  frantic  rabble  in  lialf-amaze 
Stared  at  him  dead,  thro'  all  the  nol)ler  hearts 
In  that  vast  Oval  ran  a  shudder  of  shame. 
The  Baths,  the  Forum  gabbled  of  his  death. 
And  preachers  linger'd  o'er  his  dying  words, 
Which  would  not  die,  but  echo'd  on  to  reach 
lionorius,  till  he  heard  them,  and  decreed 
That  Rome  no  more  should  wallow  in  this  old  lust 
Of  Paganism,  and  make  her  festal  hour 
Dark  with  the  blood  of  man  who  murder'd  man." 

What  most  attracts  toward  higher  ideals  ? 

The   splendid    utterances  of  orators?     The 

finished  sentences  of  brilliant  authors?     Our 

Master  showed  finer  discernment  when  he  sent 

52 


The  Power  of  Character 


his  dr:4ciples  into  the  world  to  do  just  as  he  had 
done.     He  attracted  others   by   the  evident 
goodness  of  his  hfe — by  the  power  of  his  per- 
sonaHty.     When  he  called,  Peter  and  John 
left   their  nets  and   followed  him.     By   the 
same  methods  his  work  is  to  be  continued. 
Influence  is  not  measured  by  words,  but  by 
character.      No  book  was  ever  so  well  worth 
studying  as  a  noble  life.      Men,   not  books, 
have  lifted  the  world  toward  higher  things. 
Some   persons   are   so   genuine,   so   true,  so 
trustworthy,  that  in  the  hour  of  need  they 
are  always  sought.     The  greatest  figure  in 
English  history  is  that  of  Oliver  Cromwell. 
But  Cromwell  did  not  leap  into  publicity  at  a 
bound.      He  was  a  coimtry  squire,  in  appear- 
ance uncouth,  in  manner  without  poli.sh,  with 
no  gift  of  oratory ;  but  he  could  be  counted 
on.     The   times  demanded    "a   .still,  strong 
man,"  who  could  "  rule  and  dare  not  lie,"  and 
he    was  that  man.     What   made   Abraham 
Lincoln  the  idol  of  the  republic  and  the  glory 
of  his  generation?     Not  his  eloquence,  al- 
though few  have  spoken  more  eloquently; 

53 


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Personality 

not  his  achievements,  although  few  have 
achieved  greater  things.  He  is  remembered 
and  loved  for  what  he  was.  The  little 
girl  who  pleaded  for  her  brother  found  the 
great  President's  ear  attentive ;  the  widow 
with  the  story  of  her  only  boy  found  his 
heart  sympathetic.  He  never  ceased  to  be  a 
man,  and  in  that  fact  was  his  power.  Culture 
alone  is  not  personality  ;  neither  are  wealth,  a 
beautiful  presence,  an  honored  lineage,  nor 
physical  strength.  "  A  Httle  child  shall  lead 
them."  We  bow  before  strength,  but 
that  will  fail;  we  admire  intellect,  but  in- 
tellect is  not  always  to  be  trusted.  Show 
me  one  who  will  never  deceive,  who  is  hon- 
est as  the  day,  unselfish  as  love,  who  never 
seeks  his  own  but  always  another's  welfare, 
and  I  will  show  you  a  man  whom  all  who 
know  will  trust,  before  whom  many  hearts 
will  open,  and  into  whose  keeping  sacred 
secrets  will  be  committed.  The  greatest 
power  in  the  world  is  personal,  and  per- 
sonal power  culminates  when  wisdom  and 
knowledge    are    married    to    goodness    and 

54 


The  Secret  of  PorsonLility 

love.  When  we  are  what  we  ouf^ht  to  he  the 
things  which  wc  ought  to  do  will  be  evident, 
and  the  strength  to  do  them  at  hand. 

If  Paul  was  reniarkal)le  neither  for  physi- 
cal strength  nor  for  learning,  and  least  of  all 
for  grace  and  charm  of  manner,  then  what 
was  the  secret  of  his  unique  personality  ? 
He  would  not  have  been  long  in  answering 
that  question.  "  The  love  of  Christ  con- 
straineth  me."  \\y  that  he  would  mean, 
"  The  secret  of  mv  life  is  in  the  fact  that  the 
very  love  which  was  in  Christ  has  reached 
down  and  taken  hold  of  ine  and  made  me  its 
glad  and  grateful  slave."  "  Christ  liveth  in 
I  am  crucified   with   Christ."     The 


me. 


"     (( 


old  Saul  had  gone  out  of  sight,  and  a  new 
man  had  come  in,  who  was  impelled  by  the 
very  forces  which  took  Jesus  to  the  cross. 
The  secret  of  his  power,  service,  and  endur- 
ance was  in  "  the  heavenly  vision."  Another 
element  in  Paul's  personality  was  his  large 
and  vital  faith.  That  is  not  synonymous 
with  belief.  Faith  in  a  person  is  never  the 
same  as  belief  in  a  proposition.     Faith  is  not 

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the  acceptance  of  a  series  of  doctrines ;  it  is 
the  bond  which  links  us  with  the  unseen  ;  it  is 
the  bridge  which  we  throw  over  the  abyss 
between  ourselves  and  the  infinite.  "  I  be- 
lieve in  God  so  that  I  trust  him"  is  a  true 
description  of  faith. 

Faith  is  the  faculty  of  realizing  in  our 
mortal  life  the  unseen  and  eternal  and  love 
is  the  substitution  of  Christ's  motives  and 
methods  for  those  of  the  world.  These  two 
graces  combined  in  one  character  go  far  to- 
ward the  making  of  an  inspiring  personality. 
Those  who  have  "  endured  as  seeinr.  Him 
who  is  invisible,"  who  have  dared  lO  face  a 
majority  in  the  consciousness  of  being  right, 
who  have  followed  love  even  though  it  has 
taken  them  to  the  cross,  have  been  leaders  to 
whom  the  world  has  come  at  last.  That 
monument  on  Commonwealth  Avenue  in 
Boston  is  typical.  There  was  a  time  when 
the  most  maligned  man  in  America  was  Wil- 
liam Lloyd  Garrison.  Even  Boston  was 
ready  to  hang  him,  for  no  reason  except  that 
he  believed  in  God  and  loved  man.     He  was 

56 


Faith  and  Love 

not  great,  except  in  his  passion  for  humanity. 
He  would  not  sacrifice  a  brother  to  win  a 
world's  applause.  The  secret  of  heroism  is 
always  found  in  faith  and  love.  No  one  is 
heroic  without  them.  Those  who  trust  God 
seldom  fear  man,  and  will  not  doubt  that  in 
the  end  truth  and  righteousness  will  prevail. 
If  they  go  down  beneath  the  waters  it  will  be 
with  a  song  upon  their  lips.  He  who  forgets 
himself  and  lives  for  others,  though  he  be 
as  humble  as  the  Galilean,  will  sooner  or 
later  inspire  many  with  a  passion  for  his 
idc^'. 

Four  characteristics  are  always  found  in 
those  who  exert  an  enduring  and  benefi- 
cent influence.  The  first  is  devotion  to  God. 
Where  there  is  no  vision  of  God  the  tendency 
is  ever  and  inevitably  downward.  Those 
who  believe  in  no  mountain-crests  will  seek 
to  climb  none.  Those  who  have  stooped 
lowest  in  service  have  previously  been  lifted 
highest  by  their  beliefs.  Those  who  have 
been  surest  of  God  and  most  consecrated  to 
him  have  had  the  most  faith  in  man  and 

57 


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Personality 


done  the  most  for  his  elevation.  Those 
who  have  visions  of  God  sooner  or  later  be- 
come like  him.  They  are  not  attracted  by- 
evil,  because  they  have  fallen  in  love  with 
the  good.  No  one  has  led  the  race  far  to- 
ward the  heavenly  heights  who  has  not  been 
sure  of  God.  All  are  heroic  who  can  say, 
"  Though  he  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  him." 

The  highest  manhood  necessitates  the  finest 
culture  of  mind  and  heart.  An  ignorant  good 
man  is  never  so  efficient  as  one  who  has  ample 
knowledge  and  has  cultivated  his  faculties. 
Goodness  is  sometimes  allied  to  coarse- 
ness, and  culture  to  crime ;  circumstances 
often  make  culture  impossible ;  but  in  them- 
selves knowledge  and  training  are  elements 
of  strength,  and,  other  things  being  equal, 
he  who  knows  much  and  who  has  been  care- 
fully trained  will  do  most  for  God  and  man. 
All  men  are  "  loaded  with  bias."  Some- 
thing which  will  develop  the  good  and  make 
"a  balance  in  the  faculties"  is  desirable. 
God  gives  his  Spirit  to  those  who  can  use  it 
best.     Some  ignorant  men  have  done  great 

58 


I'he  Necessity  ot  Purity 


things,   and   some   learned   men   have    been 
fools;  but  no  man  ever  accomph'shed  much 
because  he  knew  Httle,  and  no  man  was  ever 
a  fool  because  he  was  learned.      Paul  spent 
three   years  in  Arabia  before  he  began   to 
preach.      All    teachers  of  abiding   influence 
have  spent  more  time  in  studying  than  in 
teachnig.      Every  grace  of  manner,  every  gain 
of  education,  every  charm  of  presence,  every 
refinement  of  expression,  will  be  sought  by 
those    who    are    anxious  to  achieve  worthy 
things   for  the  kingdom   of  God. 

If  personality  and  power  are  synonymous, 
then  those  habits  which  hinder  the  fullest 
and  most  beautiful  development  of  the  spirit 
should  be  put  away.  Fineness  of  spirit  can 
manifest  itself  only  through  purity  of  body. 
All  ought  sometime  to  oflfer  Tennyson's 
prayer : 

"  oil  for  a  man  to  arise  in  me, 

That  the  man  I  am  may  cease  to  be." 

Whatever  dulls  the  intellectual  faculties  or 
dims  the  spiritual  perception  limits  influence. 
Those  who  have  found  nearness  to  God  have 

59 


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Personality 


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begun  by  abstinence  from   all  that  pampers 

the  flesh.      Prophets  have  never  spent  much 

time  in  parlors.     Gluttony  and  spirituality  are 

sworn  enemies.     Narcotics  and  stimulants  do 

not  clarify  spiritual  sight.     The  pure  in  heart 

see  God.     The  astronomer  makes  ll'  e  that 

the  glass  of  his  telescope  is  not  soiled  by  a 

single  fleck.     The  reflector  in  the  lighthouse 

must    be    kept    untarnished.      If    we  would 

know  God  antl  thus  be  of  some  little  service 

in  making  him  known  to  our  fellow-men,  we 

must  make  sure  that  our  thoughts  are  pure 

and  our  habits  clean. 

But  perhaps  the  chief  factor  in  a  beneficent 

personality    is    loss    of    self    in    devotion   to 

humanity.     Sooner  or  later  others   will  seek 

the    man    who    never   schemes    for   himself. 

Those  who  exalt  themselves  no  one  else  will 

exalt.     A  physician,  at  the  peril  of  his  life, 

allowed  a  tube  to  be  inserted  into  his  veins, 

that  blood  might  be  drawn  from  him  to  save 

the  life  of  a  servant.     Those  who  will  risk 

their  lives  for  the  lowliest  are  made  of  heroic 

stuff.     For  such  this  world  is  waiting.     Self- 

60 


The  Prerogative  of  No  Class 


assertion  is  hateful ;  self-sacrifice  to  save 
one's  fellow-men,  sublime.  The  inscription 
on  the  tomb  of  General  Gordon  in  St.  Paul's 
Cathedral  closes  as  follows:  "Who  at  all 
times  and  everywhere  gave  his  strength  to 
the  weak,  his  substance  to  the  poor,  his  sym- 
pathy to  the  suffering,  and  his  heart  to  God." 
No  wonder  that  Chinamen  listened  to  him  as 
if  he  were  a  messenger  from  another  world! 
No  wonder  that  African  tribes  believed  that 
he  was  a  superior  being!  All  who  forget 
themselves  in  the  service  of  God  and  man 
help  to  make  grand,  sweet  music  in  the  midst 
of  the  storm  and  shipwreck  of  this  mortal 
life. 

Personality  is  the  prerogative  of  no  class. 
The  loftiest  spirit  may  inhabit  the  frailest 
body  and  the  whitest  soul  dwell  in  the  deep- 
est poverty.  All  who  trust  God  and  in  the 
spirit  of  Christ  serve  their  fellow-men  enter 
into  the  secret  places  of  abiding  power. 
Devotion  to  the  divine,  the  culture  of  every 
gift  and  faculty,  body  and  mind  "  according 

well  "  and  kept  pure  and  clean,  loss  of  self  in 

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Personality 

the  consciousness  of  the  privilege  of  serving 
humanity — these  are  the  characteristics  of 
that  lofty  and  beneficent  manhood  so  finely 
designated  in  our  time  by  the  word  "per- 
sonality," and  perfectly  illustrated  for  all  time 
in  the  example  of  Him  who  came  not  to  be 
ministered  unto  but  to  minister,  and  who  by 
losing  His  life  became  the  Saviour  of  the 
world. 


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The  Evolution  of  a  Thinker 

By 

George  A.  Gordon,  D.D. 

Pastor  of  the  Old  South  Church,  Boston,  Mass, 

"I  thought  on  my  icays, 
/liid  tinned  my  fat  unto  thy  testimonies." 

Ps.  cxix.  cjcf. 

THE  thinker  is  always  an  interestingly 
bcinir;  but  sometimes  he  is  a  sophist, 
and,  although  interesting,  he  is  misleading. 
And  even  when  he  is  not  a  sophist  he  is  fre- 
quently abstract,  remote,  vague,  and  there- 
fore unprofitable.  Here  in  the  text  we  have 
a  man  who  is  a  thinker  and  yet  no  sophist, 
no  dreamer,  but  one  who  brings  the  full  power 
of  an  inspired  intelligence  to  bear  upon  the 
most  urgent  and  tiie  most  momentous  issues 
of  life.  In  the  evolution  of  this  typical  vital 
thinker  as  he  comes  before  us  in  the  words, 

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The  Evolution  of  a  Thinker 

"  I  thought  on  my  ways, 
And  turned  my  feet  unto  thy  testimonies." 

there  are  four  things  to  be  noted. 

I.  In  the  first  place,  his  words  are  remark- 
able for  the  clear  recognition  which  they  con- 
tain of  the  supreme  and  ultimate  relation  of 
every  human  life.  The  last  reference  of  our 
existence  is  to  God.  The  words  "  my  ways  " 
and  "  thy  testimonies  "  present  the  two  terms 
in  the  great  final  comparison,  the  two  persons, 
the  finite  and  the  infinite,  who  have  to  do 
with  each  other  before  all  and  after  all.  As 
a  cathedral  built  in  the  heart  of  a  great  city 
rises  with  the  other  buildings  round  about  it, 
keeps  company  with  them  a  certain  distance, 
and  then  leaves  them  all  behind,  soars  away 
skyward,  and  at  last,  solitary  and  alone,  looks 
up  into  the  infinite  spaces,  so  every  man  lives 
among  men.  He  rests  with  them  upon  the 
same  political  and  social  foundation ;  he 
stands  with  them  in  a  wide  and  important 
fellowship  ;  he  rises  with  them  a  certain  way, 
and  then  he  goes  beyond  them  all,  and  the 
last  look  and  reference  of  his  spirit  is  to  the 

64 


The  Supreme  Relation 

Ktcrnal.  We  drew  our  being  from  God,  we 
live  and  move  and  have  our  being  in  God, 
;ukI  at  death  we  breathe  back  our  life  into 
God's  hands.  The  first  thing  in  our  existence 
is  our  Maker,  and  when  we  have  done  with 
all  others  we  have  still  to  do  with  him.  For 
the  clear  and  impressive  recognition  of  this 
supreme  and  final  relation  of  human  life  the 
words  of  the  text  are  indeed  remarkable.  In 
the  evolution  of  thought  this  thinker  began 
at  the  divine  beginning,  and  let  us  be  thank- 
ful to  him  for  that. 

2.  The  words  of  this  man  are  remarkable, 
in  the  second  place,  for  the  application  which 
they  reveal  of  an  awakened  intelligence  to  the 
business  of  living.  Is  it  not  strange  that  in 
a  world  where  so  much  thinking  is  done,  and 
where  so  many  magnificent  monuments  have 
been  erected  to  the  triumph  of  human  reason, 
so  very  little  thought  should  be  given  to  that 
which  is  of  supreme  moment — life  itself? 
Every  locomotive  that  leaves  the  station  must 
have  an  engineer;  that  is,  intelligence  must 
be  in  command.     Every  ship  that  clears  port 

65 


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The  Evolution  of  a  Thinker 


i 


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must  have  a  captain  ;  again,  reason  must  rule. 
In  all  the  professions  the  cry  is  for  more  light, 
for  larger-minded  men.  And  no  one  expects 
success  anywhere  in  tlie  business  of  the  world 
but  in  proportion  as  he  puts  his  mind  upon 
his  task.  Our  science,  our  art,  our  philoso- 
phy, our  political  institutions,  our  industry, 
our  history,  and  our  entire  civilization  are 
monuments  of  the  greatness  and  triumph  of 
the  human  mind.  Upon  every  hand  we  behold 
the  marvels  achieved  by  thought.  Every- 
where it  is  doing  wonders,  except  in  the  evo- 
lution of  character.  Life  is  left  to  make  way 
for  itself,  to  go  unshielded  into  the  field  of 
battle.  Character,  the  supreme  thing,  is 
abandoned  to  chance ;  it  is  left  to  grow  wild ; 
it  is  given  no  succor,  no  inspiration  from  the 
power  of  intelligence.  And  one  may  as  rea- 
sonably expect  a  child  to  play  in  safety  upon 
the  confines  of  a  jungle,  with  the  hiss  of  the 
snake  and  the  irrowl  of  the  wild  beast  audible 
from  the  thicket,  as  for  a  young  man  to  hope 
to  keep  his  honor,  maintain  his  purity,  and 

hold  fast  his  integrity  in  the  peril  of  the  world 

66 


I 


A  Typical  Criticism 

without  the  application  of  Christian    intelh*- 
gence  to  the  business  of  livinn- 

And  this  criticism  holds  against  men  of 
genius  as  well  as  against  ordinary  men.  Like 
others,  they  are  good  and  bad  from  impulse, 
and  moral  iudgment  has  had  but  little  to  dc 
with  the  guidance  of  their  lives.  Take,  for 
example,  the  criticism  that  Burns  passes  upon 
himself  in  his  poem  "A  Izard's  Epitaph." 
How  much  deeper,  how  much  more  severe, 
how  much  more  to  the  point  it  is  than  the 
censure  of  any  other  critic! 

"  Is  therr  a  man  whose  judgment  clear 
Can  others  teach  the  course  to  steer, 
Yet  runs  himself  life's  mad  career 

Wild  as  the  wave? 
Here  pause-and,  tin  ough  the  starting  tear, 

Survey  this  grave." 

"  The  poor  inhabitant  below 
Was  quick  to  learn  and  wise  to  know, 
And  keenly  felt  the  friendly  glow 

And  softer  flame; 
But  thoughtless  follies  laid  him  low 

And  stain'd  his  name." 

With  what  unerring  insight  the  poet  reaches 
to  the  heart  of  the  difficulty,  and  with  what 

67 


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The  Evolution  of  a  Thinker 

utter  fidelity  he  lays  it  bare!  The  fiuicla- 
mental  sin  in  the  career  of  liurns  was  the  fail- 
ure to  put  his  personal  life  under  the  power 
of  moral  intcUi^^cncc.  That,  I  do  believe,  is 
at  the  heart  of  the  overwhelming^;  maj(^rity  of 
the  blasted  hopes  and  the  blii^htcd  careers 
with  which  every  fresh  i^eneralion  of  young 
men  has  hitherto  disappointed  the  world  and 
plunged  it  in  tears. 

And  even  where  thought  is  given  to  life,  it 
is  usually  one-sided.  There  are  two  great 
partners  in  the  business  of  living :  the  sum  of 
things  and  the  individual  man;  the  universe 
and  the  single  person  ;  God  and  the  soul. 
Two  questions  thus  arise  in  every  earnest 
mind:  How  does  God  deal  with  us?  How 
do  we  behave  toward  God  ?  Upon  the  first 
question  we  are  marvelously  free,  and  this 
may  be  one  of  the  reasons  for  the  amazing 
popularity  in  our  time  of  the  Book  of  Job. 
The  absolute  freedom  of  speech  in  which  he 
indulges,  the  bold  way  in  which  he  calls  the 
Almighty  to  account,  accords  wonderfully 
well  with  our  prevailing  mood.    We  complain 

68 


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God's  Problem 

of  the  weather,  which  is  not  our  work,  but 
the  Ahniglity's;  we  are  vexed  at  our  physi- 
cal constitution,  which  is  not  of  our  doin^, 
but  of  the  divino;  we  are  sore  at  heart — 
whatever  we  may  pretend  to  the  world — 
because  we  are  so  poorly  endowed  in  intel- 
lect, which  cannot  be  laid  to  our  account,  but 
must  be  laid  at  the  door  of  our  Maker;  we 
are  ashamed  over  the  evil  dispositions  with 
which  our  nature  is  infested,  and  for  which 
we  are  in  no  way  responsible.  We  call  God 
to  account  for  our  total  inheritance  and  en- 
vironment ;  we  ask  for  light  upon  the  mystery 
of  iniquity  and  the  mystery  of  pain. 

All  this  freedom  of  thought  is  well.  Let 
it  go  on.  There  is  a  fundamental  faith  in  the 
reality  of  righteousness  underneath  it  that 
makes  it  little  short  of  a  revelation  of  God. 
Theodicies  have  their  necessity  in  the  moral 
reason  of  man  and  in  the  conditions  of  the 
world.  Sometimes  they  are  a  mere  parade 
of  rhetoric,  like  Pope's  "  Essay  on  Man  " ; 
again,  they  reduce  themselves  to  nothing  by 
denying  the  facts,  like  the  optimism  of  Leib- 

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The  Evolution  ot  a  Thinker 

nitz ;  still  further,  they  are  epoch-making  in 
their  freeduin,  magnificence,  and  failure,  like 
Job;  and  yet  once  more,  they  create  new 
hope,  as  when  Milton,  on  his  way  toward  a 
justification  of  the  ways  of  God  to  men,  emp- 
ties heaven  and  earth  and  hell  in  the  presence 
of  faith.  Thcodicies  there  have  always  been  ; 
attempts  at  them  there  always  mus.  be  in  this 
world.  Ikit  the  moment  we  thn  w  the  bur- 
den of  human  life,  the  world,  '.he  universe 
upon  God  we  conquer  gro^i.id  for  a  new  ex- 
pectation. God  will  at  last  construct  his  own 
justification.  And  what  a  day  that  will  be 
when  the  l^^ternal  appears  at  the  bar  of  the 
conscience  that  he  has  made  and  enlightened 
to  give  an  account  of  his  purpose  in  the  uni- 
verse! That  will  be  the  great  and  terrible 
day  of  the  Lord.  That  is  the  final  judgment 
toward  which  the  conscience  of  man  looks  for- 
ward both  with  awe  and  with  deathless  desire. 
With  such  a  cause,  for  such  an  end,  with  such 
a  Reasoner,  how  ineffably  solemn  and  grand 
the  scene  will  be!      Then  surely  the  morning 

stars  will  renew  and  perfect  their  song,  and 

70 


Man's  Problem 

all  the  sons  of  God  will  shout  for  joy  as  they 
never  yet  have  done. 

But  if  the  universe  has  its  problem,  we 
have  ours.  It  is  our  privilege  to  ask  God  to 
account  to  the  conscience  that  he  crceites  and 
trains  for  his  conduct  of  the  world.  But  here 
our  solicitude  should  cease.  We  may  rest 
assured  that  the  Infniite  will  give  his  answer, 
that  God  will  accomplish  what  it  is  his  to  ac- 
complish. Meanwhile  we  have  our  funda- 
mental question,  How  are  we  behaving 
toward  the  Eternai  ?  Granted  that  the  mys- 
tery of  temptation,  and  hard  tasks,  and  dis- 
agreeable circumstances,  and  positive  disap- 
pointments, and  occasional  sweeping  losses  is 
for  God  to  explain,  is  it  not  ours  to  play  the 
man  in  all,  under  all,  and  through  all  ?  There 
are  two  questions  that  may  be  asked  about 
the  great  Face  in  the  Franconia  Notch,  the 
"  Old  Man  of  the  Mountain."  You  may  ask, 
How  does  the  sky  deal  with  the  Face  ?  Does 
it  bite  it  with  frost,  does  it  snow  it  under, 
does  it  sweep  it  with  storms,  does  it  tread 
the  great  features  with  the  feet  of  hurricanes, 

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does  it  greet  it  out  of  an  endless  succession 
of  sunrises,  does  the  l;1o\v  of  innumerable 
sunsets,  reflected  from  the  transfigured  clouds 
that  float  before  it,  light  up  the  lofty  profile? 
That  is  one  question.  But  there  is  another. 
How  does  the  Face  behave  toward  the  sky  ? 
Is  it  calm  ami  grand  and  fixed  and  serene, 
sublimely  expectant,  and  in  immortal  recon- 
ciliation with  tlic  infinite,  and  in  blessed 
peace?  IIow  is  God  dealing  witli  you? 
What  kind  of  blood  has  he  poured  into  your 
veins?  Of  what  tissue  and  substance  has  he 
made  you,  and  what  are  the  forino  of  trial 
with  which  he  has  girt  you?  What  is  your 
inheritance  and  what  your  environment? 
How  is  God  dealing  with  you  ?  That  is  one 
side  of  the  business  of  living.  But  there  is 
another.  What  is  your  bearing  toward  him  ? 
Are  you  a  coward  or  a  king,  a  devotee  of 
indulgence  or  a  hero  of  righteousness,  a  mu- 
tineer in  the  world  or  an  unchangeable  wit- 
ness of  love  and  hope  ? 

3.   This   Hebrew  thinker   was  remarkable 

for  the  way  in  which  he  discovered  that  he 

7J 


The  Power  of  the  Bible 


,      Tl 


was  wrong.  He  began  to  think  upon  his 
personal  life,  and  he  soon  found  that  he  was 
not  the  first  nor  the  greatest  thinker  in  that 
region.  A  royal  succession  had  preceded 
him.  They  had  recorded  their  thoughts 
upon  the  greatest  interests  of  existence. 
Their  recorded  thoughts  had  become  the 
highest  wisdom,  the  Holy  Scriptures,  the 
Bible  of  the  nation  to  wliich  this  man  be- 
longed. To  these  testimonies  of  God  he 
turned,  and  these  sustained,  enlarged,  and 
enlightened  his  best  reflections  upon  his  own 
life.  He  took  his  career  to  the  highest,  and 
in  its  presence  he  discovered  the  error  in 
which  he  had  been  trying  to  live. 

When  a  young  man  who  is  gifted  as  a 
musician  goes  to  perfect  his  education,  the 
nobler  his  nature  and  the  more  promising  his 
mood,  the  more  eager  he  is  to  live  in  the 
company  of  such  musicians  as  Schubert, 
Mendelssohn,  and  Beethoven,  These  great 
kings  in  the  realm  of  harmony  are  ever  about 
him,  ever  looking  down  upon  him,  and  his  life 
is  rebuked  and  corrected  by  them  and  inspired 

73 


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The  Evolution  of  a  Thinker 


at  the  same  time.  When  a  student  of  paintinjT 
really  wishes  to  excel,  to  discover  his  defect, 
and  to  see  the  path  to  high  achievement,  he 
goes  to  the  great  European  galleries  where  the 
masters  will  look  down  upon  him  from  the 
walls.  In  the  presence  of  Rembrandt,  Titian, 
and  Raphael  he  will  find  both  the  error  of  his 
work  and  the  way  out  of  It.  There  these 
masters  stand,  forever  revising,  forever  cor- 
recting, forever  [)ointing  out  the  defect  and 
forever  indicating  the  path  to  true  achieve- 
ment. Our  own  Longfellow,  the  most  com- 
pletely poetical  nature  that  we  iiave  yet  j)ro- 
duced,  owed  his  humility  and  his  perfection 
as  an  artist  in  no  small  measure  to  the  iact 
that  he  lived  with  Dante.  The  great  Floren- 
tine revised  and  guided,  rebuked  and  inspired 
his  devoted  scholar.  And  it  is  beautiful  to 
think  of  Tennyson,  the  consummate  poet  and 
artist  of  our  century,  dying  with  Shakespeare 
in  his  hand,  thus  acknowledging  his  deep  in- 
debtedness to  the  high  excellence  of  that 
supreme  poetic  <renius. 

Now  when  a  man  of  the  world  wants  to 

74 


Appeal  to  the  Higiiest 

test  his  goo(hiess,  what  does  he  usually  do? 
He  picks  out  some  sliabby  church-member 
and  compares  him  with  liimsclf.  Findin^^ 
himself  as  i^^ood  as  the  oilier  member  of  tlie 
couiparison, — he  could  not  well  be  worse, — 
he  couL^ratuiates  himself  and  concludes  tiiat 
he  is  \;ood  enough.  And  so  men  who  want 
excuses  for  their  low  lives  take  good  men  at 
their  worst — Peter  wlien  he  denied  his  Mas- 
ter, the  ten  when  they  forsook  the  Lord,  Paul 
when  he  lost  h.is  temper — and  again  suborn 
their  moral  judgment.  Take  good  mem  at 
their  best;  take  the  divine  man  Christ,  and 
the  error  will  soon  leap  to  light.  There  is 
one  hymn  which  we  especially  need  to  sing 
these  days: 

"  O  Gdd,  how  infinite  art  thoii! 
What  wortlik'ss  wdrnis  arc  \vc!" 


it 

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We  need  the  sense  of  contrast  between  our 
wretclied  lives  and  God's  perfections,  between 
our  poor,  miserable  actual  and  the  blazing 
and  eternal  ideal.  The  highest  wisdom  of 
the  race,  the  l^ible,  the  highest  life  in  history, 

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The  Evolution  of  a  Thinker 

the  life  of  Christ, — hither  we  must  come  for 
the  evolution  of  a  true  moral  judgment  upon 
our  personal  life. 

4.  Last  of  all,  this  man  is  remarkable  for 
the  ease  with  which,  finding  he  was  wrong, 
he  returned  to  righteousness.  He  con- 
sulted the  testimonies  of  God  and  found  that 
he  was  wrong.  Instantly  the  active  power  of 
his  nature  came  into  play  :  he  turned  his  feet 
unto  these  same  testimonies ;  he  grasped  the 
right  thouglit  of  life  ;  that,  right  thought  must 
be  embodied  in  his  heart,  in  his  speech,  in  his 
whole  existence.  Show  an  honest  man  that 
he  is  wrong ;  if  he  sees  it,  and  if  he  is  an 
honest  man,  he  will  turn  at  once.  If  he  is 
full  of  excuses  he  is  a  liypocrite.  Take  the 
difference  between  Paul  and  Felix.  Paul» 
going  like  a  cyclone  against  Christianity, 
against  the  great  cause  of  humanity  in  his 
age,  is  met  by  the  light  from  heaven.  It 
struck  him  to  the  ground.  He  was  spoken 
to  by  the  Lord,  and  what  is  his  cry  ?  "  What 
wilt  thou  have  me  to  do?"  Tlie  answer  is, 
"Become  an   apostle;    retrace   your   steps; 

76 


The  Test  of  Sincerity 

wherever  you  have  persecuted  my  cause  go 
and  preach   it."     Instantly   he   rose   up  and 
went,  and  met  the  sneer  and  the  scofT  and  the 
persecution  of  those  wlio  liad  hailed  his  fa- 
naticism with  joy,  who  now  hated  him  be- 
cause of  his  adoption  of  the  new  faith.     By 
his  immediate  renunciation  of  a  discovered 
error  he  showed  his  sincerity.      He  could  not 
stand  by  a  lie;  he  could  not  consecrate   his 
power  to  that  which  God  had  demonstrated 
to  his  soul  to  be  wroni^.     Take  now  the  case 
of  Felix.     Paul  preached  to  Felix  on  temper- 
ance   and    righteousness   and    judgment    to 
come,  and  he  trembled  in  his  inmost  soul  at 
the  power  of  that  preaching.     What  was  his 
response  ?     "  Go  thy  way  for  this  time  ;  when 
I  have  a  convenient  season,  I  will   call   for 
thee."     He  was  a  sneak!      No  other  word 
describes  it.     Tell  a  man  he  is  wrong ;  if  he 
is  a  man,  he  will  right  it.  by  the  help  of  God. 
Show  a  man  that  he  is  wrong,  and  if  he  be- 
gins to  rea.son  about  it,  give  excuses  for  it, 
procrastinate  and  promise  amendment  by  and 
by,  that  man  is  morally  unisound  to  the  cen- 

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ter  of  his  S(nil.  When  the  captain  of  a  ship 
has  been  out  at  sea  in  a  fog  for  a  week,  and 
lias  been  going  God  only  knows  where,  and 
suddenly  the  cloud  lifts  and  the  sun  streams 
upon  him,  and  he  finds  out  that  he  is  hun- 
dreds and  hundreds  of  miles  away  from  his 
true  course,  what  does  he  do?  He  thanks 
God  for  deliverance,  for  the  great  rebuke,  for 
the  sweet  discovery  of  the  light,  heads  the 
ship  the  other  way,  and  begins  to  beat  back 
with  a  singing  heart  to  his  true  course.  And 
so  when  you  find  an  honest  man,  and  show 
him  that  he  is  not  on  the  right  path,  that  he 
has  departed  from  his  true  course,  gratitude 
leaps  like  a  spring  set  free  in  his  heart,  and 
there  is  a  new  song  in  his  soul,  and  he  begins 
to  beat  back  to  ricrhteousness. 

o 

These,  then,  are  the  four  things  to  be  laid 
to  heart.  First  of  all,  we  must  recognize 
and  revere  our  Maker.  In  the  evolution  of 
the  thinker,  we  must  begin  at  the  beginning. 
We  come  from  God,  we  go  to  God,  and  our 
entire  existence  is  supported  by  his  will. 
We  must  see  hmi  face  to  face ;  we  must  feel 

78 


The  Great  Opportunity 

him  under  and  over  and  round  about  and 
within  our  life.  Our  bcini^  must  be  ever  open 
toward  him,  as  tiie  windows  of  the  devout 
Jew  in  exile  were  toward  Jerusalem.  Our 
nature  must  become  alive  with  his  presence, 
our  character  all  shot  throu^^h  with  his  power. 
Then  we  shall  have  a  divinely  illuminated  in- 
telligence to  brini;  to  bear  upon  the  great 
business  of  living.  Christian  manhood  will 
issue  from  the  creative  presence  of  the  Inter- 
nal Spirit  within  the  soul,  mediated,  under- 
stood, interpreted,  and  served  by  the  whole 
power  of  reason.  And  in  the  companionship 
of  the  Lord  the  secret  sin,  the  hidden  fault, 
the  entire  defect  and  error  of  existence,  will 
lie  in  perpetual  open  revelation.  Last  of  all, 
we  shall  leap  to  the  grandest  prixilcge  given 
to  man,  the  sublime  chance  for  the  return  to 
righteousness.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  very 
great  human  life  seems  to  me  U)  be  under 
this  conception.  I  hax'e  looked  at  the  tide 
going  seaward,  at  the  (Kean  returning  uj^on 
itself,  until  it  seemed  as  if  it  would  go  away 
forever  and  come  again  no  more.     But  the 

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moment  of  pause,  chanpje,  and  return  finally 
arrived.  I^'irst  in  rij)plcs,  then  in  heavier 
swells  and  hunger  rolls,  with  the  constant 
retrograde  constatitly  cliccked  and  overcome, 
with  the  pull  of  the  heavens  and  the  cry  of 
the  shore,  it  tiiuiulerfd  lo  the  flood  at  last. 
So  we  retreat  from  wisdom,  from  gootlness, 
from  God  ;  and  so  we  return  when  we  come 
to  ourselves.  To  beat  back  out  of  the  depths 
and  from  the  far  distances,  to  come  home- 
ward in  sj)ile  of  all  reverse  movements,  to 
rise  to  the  flood  at  length — that  is  but  a  poor 
symbol  lor  the  march  upon  righteousness, 
the  joy  of  the  successive  gains,  and  the  hope 
of  the  final  and  overwhelming  triumph  in 
God. 


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The  Great  Heresy 

By 

David  James  Burrell,  D.D. 

Pastor  of  Marble  Collegiate  Church,  New  York  City 


<< 


From  that  timefori'i  began  Jesus  to  show  unto  his  dis- 
ciples, how  that  he  must  go  unto  Jerusalem,  and  suffer 
many  things  of  the  elders  and  chief  priests  and  scribes,  and 
be  killed,  and  be  raised  again  the  third  day.  Then  Peter 
took  him,  and  began  to  rebuke  hir-,  saying,  Be  it  far  from 
thee.  Lord:  this  shall  not  be  unto  thee.  But  he  turned,  and 
said  unto  Peter,  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan:  thou  art  an 
ojfcnse  unto  me:  for  thou  savorest  not  the  things  that  be  of 
God,  but  those  that  be  of  men." — Matt.  xvi.  21-2}. 

IN  the  religion  of  the  Parsees  there  are  two 
supreme  beings:  Ormuzd,  "the  Good," 
creator  and  sustainer  of  all  things  bright  and 
helpful ;  and  Ahriman,  "  the  Black,"  who  pre- 
sides over  the  regions  of  darkness,  evokes  the 
malignant  passions,  and  stands  sponsor  for 
war  and  sorrow,  disease  and  death.    These  two 

are  perpetually  arrayed  against  each  other,  the 

81 


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The  Great  Heresy 

gage  of  conflict  being  the  dominion  of  this 
world.  It  is  like  a  stupendous  game  of  chess, 
in  which  wars  and  truces,  the  convulsions  of 
nature,  and  the  ups  and  downs  of  history,  are 
as  the  moves  of  pawns  and  castles  upon  the 
board.  It  is  impossible  to  say  how  long  the 
game  will  continue,  or  what  the  issue  will  be, 
inasmuch  as  the  contestants  are  coeval  and 
coequal.     Perhaps  it  will  go  on  forever. 

We  also  believe  in  two  great  powers  who 
contend  for  the  sovereignty  of  this  world,  but 
they  are  not  coequal.  One  is  infinite ;  the 
other — though  of  immense  guile  and  resource 
— is  finite.  And  the  end  is  to  be  seen  from 
the  beginning.  God  is  always  and  every- 
where getting  the  upper  hand  of  Satan.  The 
world  grows  constantly  and  cumulatively 
better  from  century  to  century,  from  year  to 
year,  from  day  to  day.  Every  time  our  old 
world  rolls  around,  it  rolls  a  little  farther  into 
the  light. 

"  The  eternal  step  of  progress  beats 
To  that  great  anthem,  calm  and  slow, 
Which  God  repeats. 
God  works  in  all  things ;  all  obey 

82 


"Here  am  I;  Send  Mel" 

His  first  propulsion  from  the  night. 

Wake  tliou  aiul  watch !     Tlic  world  is  gray 

With  morning  light!" 

There  never  was  a  moment,  from  the  be- 
ginning of  the  eternal  ages,  when  God  did 
not  intend  to  save  this  world.  All  things 
were  included  in  his  foreknowledge.  Sin, 
suffering,  salvation,  the  casting  down  of  ini- 
quity, and  the  restitution  of  all  things  in  the 
fullness  of  time,  were  from  eternity  present 
before  him.  In  one  of  the  boldest  and  most 
picturesque  portions  of  Scripture  we  are  in- 
troduced into  the  councils  of  the  ineffable 
Trinity.  The  three  Persons  are  represented 
as  in  earnest  conference  respecting  the  de- 
liverance of  our  sin-stricken  race.  The  cry 
of  the  erring  and  suffering  has  come  up  into 
their  ears.  The  inquiry  is  heard,  "  Whom 
shall  Vv^e  send,  and  who  will  go  for  us?" 
Then  the  only-begotten  Son  offers  himself: 
"Here  ami;  send  me!"  He  girds  himself 
with  omnipotence,  binds  upon  his  feet  the 
sandals  of  salvation,  and  goes  forth  as  a 
knight-errant   to  vindicate  and    rescue   the 

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children  of  men.  When  next  we  behold  him 
he  is  a  child,  wrapped  in  swaddling-clothes 
and  lying  in  a  manger.  The  incarnation  is 
the  first  chapter  in  his  great  undertaking,  and 
a  necessary  part  of  it.  As  Anselm  says  in 
Ctir  Dens  Homo — "  He  must  become  man 
in  order  to  suffer,  and  he  must  continue  to  be 
God  in  order  that  he  may  suffer  enough  for 
all."  In  thus  assuming  our  nature  he  laid 
aside  the  form  of  his  Godhood  and  "  the  glory 
which  he  had  with  the  Father  before  the 
world  was";  but  he  never  lost  sight  of  his 
beneficent  purpose.  Me  realized  constantly 
that  he  had  come  to  redeem  the  world  by 
dying  for  it. 

In  one  of  the  earliest  pictures  of  the  nativ- 
ity he  is  represented  as  lying  in  the  manger, 
while  just  above  him,  on  the  wall  of  the  sta- 
ble, is  the  shadow  of  a  cross.  So  Holman 
Hunt  paints  him  in  the  carpenter  shop :  the 
day's  work  is  over ;  the  weary  toiler  lifts  his 
arms  in  an  attitude  of  utter  weariness,  and 
the  level  rays  of  the  setting  sun  cast  upon  the 

wall  yonder  again  the  shadow  of  a  cross. 

84 


"For  This  Cause  Came  I" 


The  suggestion  is  true:  he  was  born  under 
that  shadow  and  lived  under  it.  He  knew 
that  he  had  come  to  die.  He  knew  that,  in- 
asmuch as  the  penalty  had  been  passed  upon 
the  race,  "  The  soul  that  sinneth,  it  shall  die," 
there  could  be  no  deliverance  but  by  death. 
Mors  janua  vitiC. 

A  company  of  Greeks,  on  one  occasion, 
came,  saying,  "  We  would  sec  Jesus."  He 
kept  them  waiting  while  he  uttered  those  ap- 
parently inconsequential  words,  "  Now  is  my 
soul  troubled."  Why  should  his  soul  be 
troubled?  Because  he  saw  in  those  waiting 
Greeks  the  vanguard  of  a  great  multitude  who 
were  to  come  to  him  as  the  fruit  of  the  tra- 
vail of  his  soul.  At  that  moment  he  felt 
himself  passing  under  the  shadow  of  the  cross 
— deeper,  darker  than  ever — to  pay  ransom 
for  these  seeking  ones.  He  shrank  from  the 
bitterness  of  his  approaching  death,  yet  knew 
it  to  be  necessary  for  the  success  of  his  errand : 
**  Now  is  my  soul  troubled ;  and  what  shall  I 
say?  Father,  save  vie  from  this  hour?  Nay, 
but  for  this  cause  came   I  unto  this  hour. 

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The  Great  Heresy 

Father^  glorify  thy  name  ! '^  He  had  come 
to  die  for  sinners.  It  must  needs  be.  He 
knew  that  without  his  vicarious  death  the 
guilty  race  was  without  hope.  He  must  give 
"  his  soul  an  offering  for  sin." 

It  could  not  be  supposed,  however,  that 
Satan,  the  prince  of  this  world,  would  suffer 
his  power  to  slip  away  without  a  desperate 
effort  to  retain  it.  He  would  put  forth  every 
energy  and  use  every  means  to  thwart  the 
beneficent  purpose  of  Christ.  Thus  we  ac- 
count for  those  extraordinary  manifestations 
of  malignant  energy,  during  the  years  of 
Christ's  ministry,  known  as  "  demoniacal  pos- 
session." Wherever  a  soul  was  open  and 
willing  to  be  used  there  the  adversary  entered 
in.  The  plans  of  Jesus  must  be  overturned ; 
he  must  not  be  permitted  to  ransom  the 
world ;  he  must  not  die  for  it. 

Out  in  the  wilderness,  after  the  forty  days 
of  fasting,  the  adversary  met  Jesus  and  pre- 
sented to  his  weak  and  suffering  soul  the 
great  temptation.      He   led   him   to   a   high 

place  and,  with  a  wave  of  the  hand,  directed 

86 


'Gtt  Thee  Behind  Me,  Satan! 


>> 


his    thought    to    all    the    kingdoms    of    this 
world,  saying,  "  All  these  are  mine.     I  know 
thy  purpose  :  thou  art  come  to  win  this  world 
by  dying  for  it.     Why  pay  so  great  a  price? 
I  know  thy  fear  and  trembling — for  thou  art 
flesh — in   view  of   the   nails,  the  fever,   the 
dreadful   exposure,   the   long  agony.      IVAjy 
pay  so  great  a  price  ?     I  am  the  prince  of  this 
world.     One  act  of  homage  and  I  will  abdi- 
cate !      Fall  down  and  worship  me ! "     Never 
before  or  since  has  there  been  such  a  tempta- 
tion, so  specious,  so  alluring.     But  Jesus  had 
covenanted    to  die    for  sinners.     He    knew 
there  was  really  no  other  way  of  accomplish- 
ing salvation   for  them.     He  could  not  be 
turned   aside  from   the  work  which  he  had 
volunteered  to  do.     Wherefore  he  put  away 
the  alluring  suggesiion  with  the  word,  "  Get 
thee  behind  me,  Satan !   I  cannot  be  moved. 
I  know  the  necessity  that  is  laid  upon  me. 
I  know  that  my  way  to  the  kingdom  is  only 
by  the  cross.     I  am  therefore   resolved  to 
suffer  and  die  for  the  deliverance  of  men." 
The  stress  of  this  temptation  was  over;  but 

87 


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The  Great  Heresy 

once  and  again  it  returned,  as  when,  after  a 
memorable  day  of  preaching  and  wonder- 
working, his  followers  proposed  to  lead  him 
to  Jerusalem  and  place  him  upon  the  throne 
of  David  (John  vi.  15);  and  he  "departed 
into  a  mountain  alone." 

We  now  come  to  the  immediate  occasion 
of  our  context.  Jesus,  with  his  disciples,  was 
on  his  last  journey  to  Jerusalem — that  mem- 
orable journey  of  which  it  is  written,  "  He  set 
his  face  steadfastly  "  toward  the  cross.  He 
had  been  with  his  disciples  now  three  years, 
but  had  not  been  able  to  fully  reveal  his  mis- 
sion, because  they  were  not  strong  enough  to 
bear  it.  A  man  with  friends,  yet  friendless, 
lonely  in  the  possession  of  his  great  secret, 
he  had  longed  to  give  them  his  full  confi- 
dence, but  dared  not  venture.  Now,  as  they 
journeyed  southward  through  Caesarea  Phi- 
lippi,  he  asked  them,  "  Who  do  men  say  that 
I  am?"  And  they  answered,  "  Some  say 
John  the  Baptist ;  some,  Elias :  others,  Jere- 
\nias,  or  one  of  the  prophets."     And  he  saith, 

•'  But  who  say  ye  that  I  am  ?  "     Then  Peter 

88 


A 


i 


''Get  Thee  Behind  Me,  Satan!" 

— brave,  impulsive,  glorious  Peter — witnessed 
his  good  confession:  "Thou  art  the  Christ, 
the  Son  of  the  living  God."  The  hour  had 
come !  His  disciples  were  beginning  to  know 
him.  He  would  give  them  his  full  confidence. 
So  as  they  journeyed  toward  Jerusalem  he  told 
them  all — how  he  had  come  to  redeem  the 
world  by  bearing  its  penalty  of  death ;  "  he 
began  to  show  them,  how  he  must  suffer 
many  things  of  the  elders  and  chief  priests 
and  scribes,  and  be  killed."  At  that  point 
Peter  could  hold  his  peace  no  longer,  but 
began  to  rebuke  him,  saying,  "  Be  it  far  from 
thee.  Lord!  To  suffer?  To  die?  Nay,  to 
reign  in  Messianic  splendor!"  And  Jesus, 
turning,  said  unto  Peter,  "  Get  thee  behind 
me,  Satan!" — the  very  words  with  which  he 
had  repelled  the  same  suggestion  in  the 
wilderness.  As  he  looked  on  his  disciple 
he  saw  not  Peter,  but  Satan — perceived  how 
the  adversary  had  for  the  moment  taken  pos- 
session, as  it  were,  of  this  man's  brain  and 
conscience  and  lips.  "  Get  thee  behind  me, 
Satan !      I  know  thee ;  I  recognize  thy  crafty 

89 


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V 


IS 


Mmapmm* iti'Jff'liUm 


The  Great  Heresy 


^ 


; 


1' 


3 


suggestion;  but  I  am  not  to  be  turned  aside 
from  my  purpose.  Get  thee  behind  me! 
Thou  art  an  offense  unto  me.  Thy  words 
are  not  of  divine  wisdom,  but  of  human  policy. 
Thou  savorest  not  the  things  that  be  of  God, 
but  those  that  be  of  men!" 

We  are  now  ready  for  our  proposition, 
which  is  this :  TJic  vicarious  death  of  Jesus  is 
tJie  vital  center  of  tJie  whole  Christian  system; 
and  any  zvord  ivhicJi  contravenes  it  is  in  the 
nature  of  a  satanic  suggestion.  There  is  one 
truth  before  wiiich  all  other  truths  whatsoever 
dwindle  into  relative  insignificance,  to  wit, 
that  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  was  wounded  for 
our  transgressions  and  bruised  for  our  iniqui- 
ties, that  by  his  stripes  we  might  be  healed. 
The  man  who  apprehends  this  by  fa.th  is 
saved  by  it. 

And  contrariwise,  any  denial  of  this  truth 
is  mortal  heresy.  The  first  satanic  suggestion 
made  to  man  was  a  denial  of  the  law,  when 
the  tempter  said  to  Adam,  "  Thou  shalt  not 
surely  die."  The  last  satanic  suggestion  is  a 
denial  of  grace :  "  It  is  not  necessary  that 

90 


A  Satanic  Suggestion 

Christ  should  die  for  thee."  The  first  ruined 
the  race,  and  the  last  will  destroy  any  man 
who  entertains  it. 

The  suggestion  comes  in  various  ways,  as 
when  it  is  said  that  the  gospel  is  not  the  only 
religion  that  saves:  "If  a  man  is  sincere, 
what  difTerence  does  it  make? 

'  For  forms  of  faith  let  canting  bights  fight, 
His  faith  cannot  ])e  wrong  whose  life  is  right.' 

Here  is  a  Confucianist  bowing  before  his  an- 
cestral tablets;  here  is  a  Hi-.ihman  bathing  in 
his  sacred  river;  and  here  an  African  bowing 
before  hjs  fetish.  All  tliese  are  sincere  ;  shall 
they  not  be  saved  with  us?  "  If  so,  then  the 
death  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the  only- 
begotten  Son  of  the  Father,  was  an  incom- 
prehensible waste  of  divine  resource,  and 
there  is  no  significance  in  the  word  that  is 
written :  "  There  is  none  other  name  under 
heaven  given  among  men,  whereby  we  must 
be  saved." 

It  is  said  again,  that  w^e  are  saved  by  the 
life  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  as  an  example 
of  holiness,  leading  us  on  to  self-culture  and 

91 


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The  Great  Heresy 


character-building,  and  his  death  has  prac- 
tically nothing  to  do  with  our  entrance  into 
life.  If  that  is  true,  then  Christ  did  but  mock 
our  infirmity  in  setting  up  such  an  ideal.  He 
did  indeed  come  into  the  world  to  tell  us  how 
men  ought  to  live,  what  a  true  man  ought  to 
be,  what  character  means.  That  was  inci- 
dental to  his  great  redei"pptive  mission,  lead- 
ing us  on  fiom  deliverance  to  righteousness. 
But  if  ihat  were  all,  then  I  say  he  mocked  our 
infirmity.  For  there  is  not  an  earnest  man 
who  does  not  kneel  down  beside  his  bed 
at  night,  after  his  most  strenuous  effort  to 
imitate  Christ,  and  say,  "  Have  mercy  upon 
me,  O  Lord,  for  I  have  sinned."  We  have 
all  sinned  and  come  short  of  the  glory  of 
God. 

Again,  it  is  said  that  Christ  did  not  die 
vicariously,  under  the  burden  of  sin,  taking 
our  place  before  the  offended  law,  but 
died  as  all  martyrs  die.  "  He  came  into  the 
world  as  a  reformer,  to  overthrow  the  evil 
condition  of  things,  and  suffered  the  fate  of 
all  earnest  souls.     He  gathered  into  his  de- 

9a 


1  I 
^  1 


The  Voice  of  Scripture 

voted  heart  the  shafts  of  the  adversary,  and 
fell."  If  that  be  so,  what  is  the  meaning  of 
the  constant  statement  that  the  death  of  Jesus 
Christ  was  a  voluntary  death?  The  Father 
gave  him,  he  gave  himself,  an  offering  for 
sin.  "  1  have  power  to  lay  down  my  life, 
and  I  have  power  to  take  it  again;  no  man 
taketh  my  life  from  me."  Life  was  his;  he 
made  it ;  he  played  with  it  as  little  children 
play  with  their  toys. 

I.  To  deny  this  doctrine  of  the  vicarious 
atonement,  in  any  of  these  ways  or  other- 
wise, is  to  set  one's  self  athwart  the  whole 
trend  of  Scripture.  For  from  Genesis  to 
Revelation  there  is  a  thoroughfare  stained 
with  the  blood  that  cleanseth  from  sin.  No 
sooner  had  man  sinned  than  the  protevangel 
spoke  of  the  "  Seed  of  the  woman  "  suffering 
for  it.  The  first  altar,  reared  by  the  closed 
gate  of  paradise,  prophesied  of  the  slain  Lamb 
of  God.  As  the  years  passed  the  prophets  de- 
clared, with  ever-increasing  clearness  and  par- 
ticularity, the  coming  sacrifice.  David  sang 
of  it  in  his  Messianic  psalms.     Isaiah  drew 

93 


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The  Great  Heresy 

the  portrait  of  the  agonizing  Christ  as  if  he 
had  gazed  on  the  cross :  "  He  is  ...  a  man 
of  sorrows,  and  acquainted  with  grief.  .  .  . 
Surely  he  hath  borne  our  griefs,  and  carried 
our  sorrows.  .  .  .  And  the  Lord  hath  laid 
on  him  the  iniquity  of  us  all."  The  same 
truth  was  emphasized  by  Moses,  Daniel, 
Zechariah,  all  the  prophets  down  to  Malachi, 
who,  waving  his  torch  in  the  twilight  of 
the  long  darkness  which  closed  the  old 
economy,  said,  "  The  Sun  of  righteousness 
shall  arise  with  healing  in  his  wings."  Open 
the  Book  where  you  will,  the  face  of  Jesus, 
so  marred  more  than  any  man's,  yet  divinely 
beautiful,  looks  out  upon  you. 

The  rites  and  symbols  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment all  find  their  fulfilment  in  Christ  cruci- 
fied. Their  center  was  the  tabernacle.  Enter 
it  and  observe  how  it  is  everywhere  sprinkled 
with  blood.  Here  is  blood  flowincf  down  the 
brazen  altar,  blood  on  the  ewer,  the  golden 
candlestick,  the  table  of  showbread,  the  altar 
of  incense ;  blood  on  the  floor,  the  ceiling,  on 
posts  and   pillars,  on    knops  and   blossoms, 

94 


• 


T 


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The  Philosophy  of  History 

everywhere.  Lift  the  curtain  and  pass  into 
the  hoHest  of  all — but  not  without  blood  on 
your  palms.  Here  is  blood  on  the  ark  of  the 
covenant,  blood  on  the  mercy-seat — blood, 
blood  everywhere.  What  does  it  mean  ? 
Nothing,  absolutely  nothing,  unless  it  declares 
the  necessity  of  the  cross.  It  is  an  empty 
dumb-show  except  as  it  points  the  worshiper 
to  Him  whose  vicarious  death  is  the  only 
means  of  our  salvation. 

Wherefore  I  say  the  man  who  denies  this 
truth  must  set  himself  against  the  sum  and 
substance  of  the  Scriptures.  For  if  the  aton- 
ing death  of  Christ  be  taken  out  of  that 
blessed  Book  it  is  of  no  more  value  than  a 
last  year's  almanac  as  a  solution  of  the  great 
problem  of  life, 

2.  Again,  a  denial  of  this  doctrine  involves 
a  downright  rejection  of  the  philosophy  of 
history. 

The  world  has  been  growing  better  ever 
since  the  cross  first  cast  its  luminous  shadow 
over  it.  Progress  is  a  fact — a  fact  that  must 
be  accounted  for.     Hume  undertook  to  write 

95 


V  ■ 


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The  Great  Heresy 

history  without  Christ,  and  found  it  a  laby- 
rinth without  a  clue.  So  did  Gibbon.  They 
saw  civilization  advancing  through  the  cen- 
turies, but,  rejecting  Christ,  they  could  per- 
ceive no  reason  for  it.  The  "  logic  of  events  " 
was  nothing  to  them.  There  can,  indeed,  be 
no  "philosophy  of  history"  for  a  man  who 
refuses  to  see  Constantine's  cross  in  the  hea- 
vens, with  its  great  prophecy,  "  In  Jioc  signo.'' 
It  is  a  miraculous  coincidence  that  the  limits 
of  civilization  on  earth  to-day  are  coexten- 
sive with  the  charmed  circle  known  as  Chris- 
tendom. **  The  world  before  Christ,"  says 
Luthardt,  "  was  a  world  without  love."  The 
church  with  the  proclamation  of  Christ,  and 
him  crucified,  has  come  down  through  the 
centuries,  like  Milton's  angel,  with  the  torch ; 
and  all  along  the  way  have  sprung  up  institu- 
tions of  learning  and  charity  and  righteous- 
ness. The  cross  is  the  vital  power  of  civili- 
zation. "  All  the  light  of  sacred "  and  of 
secular  story  as  well  **  gathers  round  its  head 
sublime."     If  the  world  grows  better,  it  is 

because  Christ  died  for  it. 

96 


The  Consensus 

3.  Still  further,  to  deny  the  vital  impor- 
tance of  the  vicarious  death  of  Jesus  is  to 
contradict  the  universal  instinct. 

The  doctrine  of  the  redemptive  power  of 
substitutionary  pain  is  not  our  exclusive 
property.  It  has,  indeed,  a  place  in  all,  or 
nearly  all,  the  false  religions.  It  may  be 
dimly  seen  in  the  hammer  of  Thor;  in  the 
wounded  foot  of  Brahma  treading  on  the  ser- 
pent; in  the  fable  of  Prometheus,  bound  to 
the  Caucasus  with  a  vulture  at  his  vitals, 
and  lamenting,  "  I  must  endure  this  until  one 
of  the  gods  shall  bear  it  for  me."  It  is  still 
more  evident  in  the  institution  of  the  sacri- 
fice. Wherever  a  living  thing  is  slain  upon 
the  altar,  it  means  vicarious  expiation,  or  else 
it  means  nothing  at  all. 

And  why  should  it  be  thought  strange  that 
God  should  send  his  only-begotten  Son  to 
suffer  in  our  stead?  Is  not  sympathy  the 
noblest  as  well  as  the  commonest  thing  in 
human  cAperience?  Men  are  suffering 
everywhere  and  always  for  other  men. 
Parents  are  suffering  for  their  children.     The 

97 


* 


,J 


i 


.1 


'    wj 


i  I  i 


iM 


v^r^mmiamBnm 


The  Great  Heresy 


pains  which  we  all  endure  are,  for  the  most 
part,  not  the  consequence  of  our  own  acts. 
At  this  point  of  sympathy  our  nature  reaches 
its  noblest  and  best.  We  esteem  above  all 
the  unselfish  man  v/ho  voluntarily  bears 
the  burdens  of  others.  Should  we  not,  then, 
expect  something  of  the  same  sort  in  our 
Father?  He  made  us  in  his  likeness.  It 
would  be  monstrous  if  God  did  not  sym- 
pathize with  his  children  who  have  fallen  into 
trouble.  The  cross  is  the  very  highest  ex- 
pression of  sympathy  in  the  universe.  The 
atonement  is  what  we  should  expect.  It  is 
just  like  God. 

And  it  is  God's  exact  response  to  the  uni- 
versal need.  It  fits  our  circumstances.  As 
Coleridge  said,  "  The  gospel  finds  me."  It 
answers  the  deepest  longing  of  earnest  souls. 
Dr.  Chamberlain  relates  that  among  those 
converted  by  his  preaching  at  the  sacred  city 
of  Benares  was  a  devotee  who  had  dragged 
himself  many  miles  upon  his  knees  and  elbows 
to  bathe  in  the  Ganges.  He  had  at  the  bot- 
tom of  his  heart  the  common  conviction  of 

98 


:•  t 


Spes  Unica 


sin  and  desire  of  cleansing.  **  If  I  can  but 
reach  the  Ganges,"  he  thought,  "  this  shame 
and  bondage  and  fear  will  be  taken  away." 
Weak  and  emaciated  from  his  long  pilgrim- 
age, he  dragged  himself  down  to  the  river's 
edge  and,  praying  to  Gunga,  crept  into  it; 
then  withdrawing,  he  lay  upon  the  river's 
bank  and  moaned,  "  The  pain  is  still  here ! " 
At  that  moment  he  heard  a  voice  from  the 
shadow  of  a  banyan-tree  near  by.  It  was  the 
missionary  telling  the  story  of  the  cross.  The 
devotee  listened,  drank  it  in,  rose  to  his  knees, 
then  to  his  feet;  then,  unable  to  restrain  him- 
self, he  clapped  his  hands  and  cried,  "  That's 
what  I  want!  That's  what  I  want!"  It  is 
what  we  all  want;  the  whole  creation  has 
from  time  immemorial  groaned  and  travailed 
for  it. 

And  it  is  our  only  hope.  There  are  other 
religions  and  other  philosophies,  but  none 
that  suggests  a  rational  plan  of  pardon  for  sin. 
Spes  nnica.  1  remember  an  old  crucifix,  in 
the  public  square  of  a  Brittany  village,  which 
no  one   passed   without  bending  the  knee. 

99 


I  hi 


ill 


I  ; 


i      (»■: 


1 


i       \ 


I 
i 


The  Great  Heresy 

Workmen  on  their  way  to  the  fields,  little 
children  going  to  school,  all  bowed  before 
that  stone  figure  of  the  Christ,  which  the 
storms  of  centuries  had  worn  almost  out  of 
human  semblance.  The  last  night,  as  I  was 
leaving  the  village  in  the  twilight,  I  saw  an 
old  woman  bent  almost  prostrate  before  it. 
Her  hands  were  clasped ;  her  uplifted  face 
bore  the  marks  of  suffering.  I  could  not 
know  the  bitterness  of  that  poor  heart,  but 
her  eyes  were  turned  toward  the  infinite 
Source  of  help  and  consolation.  The  dear 
hand  upon  the  cross  lifts  every  burden,  heals 
every  wound,  and  saves  us  from  the  penalty, 
the  shame,  and  the  bondage  of  sin. 

And  this  is  why  we  preach  Christ,  and  him 
crucified.  "  There  is  none  other  name  under 
heaven  given  among  men,  whereby  we  must 
be  saved."  "  He  was  wounded  for  our  trans- 
gressions, he  was  bruised  for  our  iniquities ; 
.  .  .  and  with  his  stripes  we  are  healed."  He 
is  thus  made  unto  us  wisdom  and  righteous- 
ness and  sanctification  and  redemption.  He 
is  first,  last,  midst,  and  all  in  all. 

lOO 


n;1 


t! 


t 


ir 


I 'si 


1 


'I 

)t 

i 

I 


Mi 


I 


!■■ 


Christ  Seeking  the  Lost 

By 

George  Harris,  D.D. 

Professor  of  Theology  in  Andover  Theological  Seminary 

"  For  the  Son  of  man  came  to  seek  and  to  save  that 
which  was  lost."— Luke  xix.  lo, 

THIS  sentence,  which  is  so  familiar,  and 
which  puts  into  a  single  phrase  the 
whole  gospel,  occurs  only  once  in  the  New 
Testament,  in  the  narrative  which  describes 
the  interview  of  Jesus  with  Zacchaeus,  the 
publican  with  whom  Jesus  d'ned  in  Jericho. 
In  the  revised  version  of  the  New  Testament 
the  saying  is  omitted  from  the  report  of 
Christ's  words  about  little  children  where  it 
occurs  in  the  received  version,  and  we  may 
be  glad  that  it  is  omitted  there.  For  children 
are  not  lost.  When  they  are  men  and  women 
they  may  be  lost,  but  as  children  they  are 
not  lost.     But  Zacchaeus  was  regarded  by  the 

lOI 


!';)■ 


II 


IS 


t-t 


■ '  1% 

r  . 


'it  ■' 


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"'  J 


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Christ  Seeking  the  Lost 


'i 


people  of  Jericho  as  lost.  He  was  a  despised 
man.  There  was  no  salvation  for  him. 
Yet  Jesus,  seeing  the  penitence  and  generosity 
of  the  man,  exclaimed,  "  To-day  is  salvation 
come  to  this  house."  He  may  really  have 
been  lost  before  he  knew  Jesus,  but  Jesus 
came  and  saved  him. 

I.  Who  are  the  lost?  What  is  it  to  be 
lost?  We  suppose  the  lost  are  those  who 
fail  of  heaven,  who  finally  are  in  the  outer 
darkness.  But  that  is  merely  the  end. 
They  will  not  be  lost  at  last  unless  they  were 
lost  before.  Jesus  spoke  of  those  who  were 
lost  then — people  all  about  him,  with  whom 
he  conversed  on  the  streets  and  in  their 
homes.  Because  they  already  were  lost  he 
came  to  save  them  ;  not  merely  to  keep  them 
from  being  lost  by  and  by,  but  to  recover 
them  from  tne  lost  state  in  which  they  then 
were,  1j  save  ^hat  which  was  lost.  If  it  was 
so  then  it  doubtless  is  so  now. 

He  took  pains  to  explain  by  parables  what 
it  is  to  be  lost,  and  we  :an  understand  best 
by  taking  his  own  illust.   tions : 


I02 


Three  Parables 


A  lost  sheep,  one  from  a  flock  of  a  hun- 
dred, gone  astray  in  the  wilderness ; 

A  lost  coin,  one  out  of  ten  pieces  of  silver 
a  woman  had,  which  had  rolled  away  into 
some  crevice ; 

A  lost  son,  one  of  two,  who  had  become 
dissipated  and  was  in  a  far  country,  poor  and 
destitute. 

These  three  illustrations,  explaining  what 
it  is  to  be  lost,  constitute  the  whole  of  that 
pathetic,  tender,  hopeful  fifteenth  chapter  of 
Luke's  gospel. 

A  lost  sheep  is  not  destroyed,  has  not  been 
killed  and  eaten  by  the  wolf.  Its  value  re- 
mains. The  fleece  may  be  torn  by  briers, 
but  is  still  fine  and  heavy.  It  has  gone 
astray,  has  wandered  farther  and  farther  away 
from  home,  and  does  not  know  the  way  back. 
In  the  forest,  among  the  rocks,  with  no  fa- 
miliar object,  no  trodden  path  to  be  seen,  the 
poor  animal  runs  hither  and  thither,  pitifully 
bleating,  helpless,  frightened,  lost.  Have 
you  ever  been  lost  in  a  forest?  You  have 
been  following  a  path,  but  it  becomes  narrow 

103 


H 


:i: 


£|L^ 


Christ  Seeking  the  Lost 


hM 


and  indistinct  till  at  last  it  disappears  alto- 
gether. You  do  not  know  what  direction 
you  should  take.  You  wander  aimlessly 
about.  At  length  you  find  footprints  and 
follow  them,  only  to  see  after  a  while  that 
they  are  your  own  tracks.  Daylight  dies 
away.  In  the  twilight  the  trees  seem  to  be 
moving  giants.  Strange  sounds  startle  you. 
The  deeper  shadows  fall ;  the  gloom  is  im- 
penetrable. You  are  utterly  bewildered,  till 
at  last,  exhauste''  and  alarmed,  you  lean 
against  a  tree  or  sink  to  the  ground,  knowing 
that  you  are  lost. 

Jesus  was  thinking  of  those  who  had  wrong 
ideas  of  God,  who  were  lost  in  a  maze  of 
ceremonials  and  observances  which  did  not 
satisfy  their  need  of  God ;  and  was  thinking 
of  those  who  had  strayed  from  the  path  of 
rectitude  and  purity  and  did  not  know  the 
way  back  to  their  true  life  as  trusting,  obedi- 
ent children  of  God.  They  reminded  him  of 
sheep  lost  in  the  wilderness.  "  When  he  saw 
the  multitudes,  he  was  moved  with  compas- 
sion for  them,  because  they  were  distressed 

104 


am 


Doubt  and  Despair 

and  scattered,  as  sheep  not  having  a  shep- 
herd." 

If  one  is  perplexed  with  doubts  concerning 
God's  lo^'e,  or  even  his  very  existence,  ask- 
ing, as  he  sees  the  evils  of  the  world  and 
suffers  the  disappointments  and  pains  of  his 
own  life,  "  Is  there  a  God  after  all?"  if  one 
can  find  no  meaning  in  life,  if  he  doubts  or 
dreads  a  life  beyond,  and  wishes  with  a  sigh 
that  he  had  a  simple,  unquestioning  faith  in 
God,  that  one  is  lost — not  lost  beyond  recov- 
ery, but  lost  in  the  wilderness,  not  knowing 
the  way  back,  the  way  home.  If  one  has  not 
kept  his  virtue,  if  by  self-indulgence  he  has 
made  himself  coarse,  has  forfeited  his  self- 
respect,  and  feels  that  he  has  no  right  to  as- 
sociate with  good  men  and  pure  women,  is 
full  of  bitter  self-reproach,  would  give  any- 
thing if  he  had  not  so  sinned,  but  does  not 
know  how  to  recover  himself,  he  is  lost — not, 
as  he  may  suppose,  beyond  hope,  but  he  is 
wandering  farther  away  from  goodness,  or  in 
his  own  old  tracks,  and  cannot  find  the  way 
back. 

105 


I! 


:ii 


*-.  if: 


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1  -1 


/      .1 


iir'iMiri-miiii^'ii 


Christ  Seeking  the  Lost 


.i.^lMJ  J^^^l 


It    '.' 


A  lost  coin,  a  lost  piece  of  silver,  is  in  ex- 
istence, represents  value,  but  is  covered  with 
dust  on  the  floor,  or  is  in  some  dark  corner, 
and  so  is  useless.  The  owner  has  lost  the 
use  of  it.  That  is  precisely  the  way  in  which 
a  great  many  people  are  lost.  They  are  lost 
to  their  right  uses.  They  either  are  doing 
nothing,  sauntering  through  life  blameless 
and  good-natured  enough,  or  are  living  on 
some  low  plane  of  selfishness  to  get  gain  and 
spend  it  on  themselves.  It  is  said,  "  What  a 
pity  that  a  young  man  of  his  talents,  educa- 
tion, property,  is  a  mere  pleasure-seeker!" 
He  has  rolled  into  some  narrow  social  crevice, 
or  has  degraded  himself  to  company  only 
with  sporting  men, — a  piece  of  silver  in  a 
dust-heap, — and  is  wasting -his  life  on  trivial 
interests.  God  has  lost  him,  the  world  has 
lost  him,  for  they  have  no  use  of  him.  He 
is  lost  to  his  right  uses.  In  the  disuse  or 
misuse  of  his  powers  he  is  lost  in  some  dirty 
corner,  in  which  there  must  be  diligent  sweep- 
ing to  find  him  at  all,  to  find  that  he  still 

exists. 

io6 


mm^msaoBam^^ 


^r-m 


A  Lost  Son 

And  a  lost  son,  one  of  two — a  prodigal 
son.     This  is  not  so  much  an  illustration  as 
an   instance.     The  prodigal   was  not  /ike  a 
lost  man,  he  zvas  a  lost  man.     He  was  lost 
to  his  father.     There  was  no  companionship, 
no    affection,   no  obedience.      He    might  as 
well  not  have  been.     It  was  as  if  he  had  been 
dead,  just  as  his  father  said  when  the  son  re- 
turned:  "  He  was  dead."     And  he  was  lost 
to  himself,  to  his  true  self.     Instead  of  being 
what  he  might  have  been  in  purity,  honor, 
manliness,  he  was  intemperate  and  licentious. 
The  true  self,  the  real  man,  had  been  usurped 
by  the  false  self,  the  ruined   man.     So  one 
may  be  lost  to  his  heavenly   Father,  as  he 
certainly  is  if  by  a  selfish  and  dissolute  life 
he  is  lost  to  his  earthly  father.     God,  who 
desires  the  trust,  obedience,  and  affection  of 
his  child,  receives  no  sign,  no  prayer,  no  ser- 
vice.    God  has  lost  his  own  child.     One  may 
be  lost  to  him.self  even  if  he  has  not  plunged 
into  the  gross  sins  of   sensuality   and  lust. 
In  the  low  life  of  pleasure  and  frivolity,  with- 
out high  aims  and  noble  ambitions,  the  mean, 

107 


i   ■^' 

I'd: 


't 


i 


'i 


it 


Christ  Seeking  the  Lost 


:i 


t 


II 


narrow,  selfish  man  has  banished  the  true, 
pure,  magnanimous,  gentle  man.  Why,  here 
was  a  boy  of  sweet  nature,  open,  bright  face, 
quick  intellect,  upon  whom  great  hopes  were 
placed.  It  was  expected  that  he  would  be- 
come a  good  man,  a  useful  man,  a  respected 
and  honored  man,  a  religious  man.  But  that 
boy  has  become  a  hard,  contemptuous,  vain, 
coarse,  and  vicious  man,  and  the  man  that 
might  have  been  is  lost.  He  is  not  his  true 
and  proper  self.  No  wonder,  when  the  prodi- 
gal thought  of  what  he  might  have  been  and 
of  what  he  was,  and  determined  to  go  home, 
it  is  said  that  he  came  to  himself.  It  seems 
a  contradiction  when  it  is  remarked  of  one 
that  he  is  not  himself;  yet  how  often  the 
vices,  follies,  infatuations  of  men  oblige  us 
to  say  just  that! 

So  one  is  lost  when  he  is  wandering  in 
error,  doubt,  perplexity,  like  a  lost  sheep ; 
lost  when  he  is  not  put  to  his  right  uses,  like 
a  lost  coin  ;  lost  when  friendship  and  affection 
have  nothing  from  him,  when  God  has  noth- 
ing from  him,  when  he  is  lost  to  himself,  like 

io8 


Christ  Saving  the  Lost 

a  spendthrift  who  has  wasted  his  substance  in 
riotous  living,  a  lost  son.  If  this  is  what  it  is 
to  be  lost,  then,  alas!  some  are  lost  now, 
long  before  the  day  of  judgment. 

2.  The  Son  of  man  came  to  save  that  which 
was  lost.  He  would  recover  a  man  to  him- 
self, to  his  uses,  and  so  to  God.  He  knew 
that  in  men,  even  those  considered  very- 
wicked,  there  was  power  of  recuperation, 
power  of  recovery.  So  he  came  to  bring  to 
them  that  truth,  that  influence,  that  life,  that 
love,  on  which  they  still  could  fasten,  and 
which  could  restore  them  to  themselves,  to 
their  uses,  and  to  God.  If  only  they  would 
believe  him  and  would  trust  him  and  would 
try,  they  could  be  saved. 

There  are  many  saviors  in  the  world.     A 

good  friend  who  will  not  give  a  man  up  when 

he  has  gone  astray,  who  throws  the  protection 

of  a  generous  friendship  around  him,  saves 

one  who  otherwise  might  be  lost.     A  father, 

a  mother,  has  saved  a  child  by  letting  the 

child  see  what  a  true  life  is,  by  making  a  child 

know  that  even  if  he  should  go  astray  he 

109 


Ip 


\\ 


c. 


I: 


\    i- 


>«    t 


n 

'  ^ 
( 

&m 


mm 


>*itii>wiiiiiii>iiii»ii»ri 


imtMM^ 


Christ  Seeking  the  Lost 


u: 


■klr  ' 


would  be  welcomed  back.  The  prodigal  knew 
his  father  well  enough  to  know  that,  and  that 
was  what  brought  him  home.  The  world  is 
full  of  saving  forces  as  well  as  of  def  :roying 
forces.  It  has  been  said,  "  You  may  save 
any  one  if  you  will  love  him  enough."  The 
saviors  ar?  those  who  have  the  spirit  of  Christ, 
who,  knowing  it  or  not  knowing  it,  feel  some- 
what as  he  did  toward  men,  never  despairing 
of  them,  ready  to  suffer  for  them  and  with 
them. 

How  did  Christ  save  men?  How  did  he 
save  Zacchasus,  for  instance?  He  saved 
Zacchaeus  simply  by  telling  him  that  he  would 
take  dinner  with  him  and  by  actually  going 
to  his  house  to  dine.  Not  a  reputable  man 
in  Jericho  would  have  done  that,  would  have 
put  himself  on  a  social  equality  with  that 
despised  and  hated  man  who  had  become 
rich  by  extorting  heavy  taxes  from  the  people. 
When  this  undersized  man — a  dwarf,  per- 
haps— saw  Jesus,  whose  very  presence  and 
bearing  showed  him  noble  and  compassionate, 
yet  unswerving  in  righteousness  and  com- 

IIO 


^ 


^ 


o 


i 


Received  Him  Joyfully 

manding  in  moral  authority^  and  when  he 
heard  his  own  name  with  the  request  for  hos- 
pitality, the  man's  heart  leaped  for  joy ;  there 
was  hope  for  him.  "  And  he  made  haste, 
and  came  down,  and  received  him  joyfully." 
How  much  that  act  of  gracious  courtesy 
meant  and  cost  to  Jesus  is  not  overlooked  in 
the  story.  "  And  when  they  saw  it,  they  all 
murmured," — all  of  them, — "  saying,  He  is 
gone  in  to  lodge  with  a  man  that  is  a  sinner." 
Little  cared  Zacchaeus  for  that.  For  once 
in  his  life  he  was  well  treated  by  one  whose 
regard  he  cared  for.  He  was  saved, — saved 
to  himself  and  to  his  uses, — and  he  at  once 
consecrated  his  wealth  to  the  good  of  men. 

Jesus  saved  men  by  making  them  under- 
stand about  God.  "  God  feels  toward  you," 
he  said,  "  as  I  feel.  He  loves  you,  cannot 
bear  to  lose  you."  Some  way  they  did 
understand  when  they  knew  Jesus,  as  the 
world  has  been  understanding  ever  since,  and 
the  doubts,  the  errors,  the  perplexities  vanish, 
the  sins  are  forsaken,  the  life  of  useful  service 

is   begun ;    we    know  ourselves  children   of 

III 


Hi 


m- 


I  J I 


it 


>.r\ 


m 


:-^. 


i;i 


: 


11 ' 


Christ  Seeking  the  Lost 

God ;  we  are  carried  home  on  Christ's  strong 
shoulders. 

3.  But  this  is  not  all.  The  Son  of  man 
came  to  seek  that  which  was  lost.  He  did 
not  wait  for  men  to  make  their  painful  way 
to  him,  and  so  to  perish  if  they  should  not 
find  him,  to  say  nothing  of  those  who  do  not 
know  they  are  lost  and  do  not  even  try  to 
find  a  Saviour.  He  came  to  seek  that  which 
was  lost,  to  make  his  mighty  way  to  them 
through  all  obstacles  and  all  indifference.  He 
was  engaged  in  a  holy,  loving  search  for  lost 
souls,  with  an  eagerness  which  could  not  fail 
to  find  them. 

When  he  taught  and  preached  he  was  seek- 
ing men.  He  scanned  every  company  of 
hearers,  searching  for  the^  responsive  faces, 
the  wistful,  earnest  faces,  and  addressed  him- 
self to  them,  as  every  real  teacher  and 
preacher  looks  among  the  upturned  faces 
before  him  for  those  who  respond  to  his 
words.  Then  he  would  seek  out  privately 
one  and  another  whom  he  had  noticed  listen- 
ing  eagerly.     In    the    throng    around    him 

112 


f 


The  Loving  Search 

at  Jericho  he  saw  one  of  the  kind  he  sought 
looking  down  on  him  out  of  the  branches  of 
a  shade-tree  by  the  wayside. 

But  words  and  precepts  even  from  the  great 
Teacher  may  fall  unheeded — heard,  indeed, 
but  not  understood.  He  sought  men  by  heal- 
ings, by  the  cure  of  bodily  ills,  to  get  at  their 
souls  afterward,  as  in  the  case  of  the  blind  man 
whom  he  afterward  found  in  the  temple ;  he 
had  been  looking  for  him  and  at  last  found  him. 

He  sought  them  in  their  homes,  dined  with 
them,  conversed  with  them  one  by  one,  tak- 
ing great  risks  to  himself,  if  need  be,  so  that 
he  might  get  at  them. 

He  sought  them  by  his  living,  by  showing 
them  the  true  life  of  purity,  of  courage,  of  sym- 
pathy, so  different  from  the  hard,  contempt- 
uous, selfish  life  of  their  religious  teachers. 

He  sought  them  by  dying ;  he  gave  up  his 
life  because  he  would  not  be  turned  away  from 
that  holy  search  for  the  lost  and  despised. 
Even  on  the  cross  the  search  did  not  cease,  for 
there  he  found  and  saved  the  penitent  thief. 

Ever  since,  and  now,  Christ  is  seeking  men, 

"3 


1 


^ 


J 


g^^g^^-^..-L^.«A^^».aa,^'^.^i,^„^^.k.t 


Christ  Seeking  the  Lost 


t\ 


is  seeking  us,  making  his  way  to  us  through 
our  prejudices,  doubts,  unbelief,  and  sin  till 
he  stands  before  us.  Sometimes  one  has  a 
thought  of  his  true  self,  of  what  he  might 
have  been,  ought  to  have  been.  **  Oh,  if  I 
could  only  live  my  life  over  again!"  he  says, 
and  says  it  while  he  is  still  young  in  years. 
Thinking  thus,  he  is  ashamed  of  himself  as  he 
is,  yet  does  not  know  how  to  recover,  or  be- 
lieves he  cannot  recover,  that  true  self.  You 
are  the  very  man  Christ  is  seeking.  In  that 
thought,  that  longing,  that  regret  he  has 
found  you,  and  he  is  saying  to  you,  "  Wouldst 
thou  be  made  whole?"  If  you  will  trust 
yourself  to  him,  venturing  out  on  him,  you 
will  regain  what  you  have  lost  and  will  be  a 
man  in  Christ  Jesus. 

You  have  been  living  all  to  yourself,  plan- 
ning your  life  so  as  to  get  pleasure  and  gain 
for  your  own  enjoyment.  You  are  conscious 
of  powers  by  which  you  can  succeed  in  your 
selfish  ambitions.  You  think  you  can  hold 
your   own  in   the  fierce  competition.      But 

sometimes  you  see  that  your  powers  can  be 

114 


^\ 


Savod  to  One's  Uses 


used  in  a  better  way.  You  see  a  world  of 
need,  sufTering,  ignorance,  which  are  largely 
due  to  selfish  strife.  You  hear  the  call  to 
service.  You  see  that  the  truly  great  men, 
the  really  good  men,  have  devoted  their  gifts, 
attainments,  knowledge  to  the  service  of 
others,  and  that  such  men  as  you  are  propos- 
ing to  yourself  to  be  have  only  made  the 
world  worse.  Who  of  you  has  not  had  such 
thoughts  of  a  noble,  useful  life?  Again,  you 
are  the  man  Christ  is  seeking.  In  those 
thoughts  he  has  found  you.  He  would  have 
you  act  on  those  convictions,  would  save  you 
thus  to  your  right  uses,  to  which  you  now 
are  lost  in  wrong  and  selfish  uses. 

Or,  it  does  not  seem  real  to  you  that  there 
is  a  God,  or,  if  there  is,  that  he  knows  you 
or  has  anything  to  do  with  you.  You  seem 
insignificant  in  this  vast  universe,  lost  in  the 
very  greatness  of  the  world,  swept  along,  a 
helpless  atom,  by  its  resistless,  unfeeling 
forces.  You  are  like  one  lost  in  a  dark,  vast 
forest,  with  no  sun,  no  star  even,  to  guide 
you.     And  you  are  far  away  from  God  by 

"5 


Christ  Seeking  the  Lost 


your  sins.     You  say  you  cannot  pray  now  as 
you  could  when  you  were  a  child.     At  the 
beginning  of  a  day  you  cannot   ask   God's 
blessing  on  what  you  know  you  will  do ;  at 
the  end  of  a  day  you  would  be  ashamed  to 
bring  it  to  God.     You  see  no  path  of  life 
which  does  not  end  in  darkness  or  in  danger. 
Again,  you  are  the  man  Christ  is  seeking. 
Thank  God  that  you  think  sometimes  of  him, 
that  you  are  not  stolid,  that  you  are  not  sat- 
isfied to  be  lost  in  his  world  and  a  wanderer 
from  his  ways.     Jesus  says,  "  God  is  not  far 
away,  a  great  power  regardless  of  you.     He 
is  very  near  you.     God  is  love.     If  you  know 
me,  you  know  God,  the  heart  of  God.     I  came 
right  out  from  God  to  find  you.     See  my 
life,  my  love,  my  compassion,  my  hope  for 
you,  and  you  see  God,  who  is  my  Father  and 
your  Father.     You  know  what  God  would 
have  your  life  be.     He  would  have  it  like 
mine.     Come  into  that  life  and  you  art  back 
in  your  Father's   house.     Come  to  yourself 
and  you  come  to  God.     Come  unto  me  and 

you  shall  find  rest  unto  your  soul." 

u6 


Seeking  All  and  Seeking  Each 

We  think  that  by  and  by,  when  we  become 
religious,  God  will  be  with  us.  But  he  is 
with  us  now,  in  every  desire  for  goodness,  in 
every  regret  for  wrong,  in  the  wish  to  be  of 
service  in  the  world,  in  the  desire  to  recover 
the  true  self  in  character.  If  we  did  not  have 
such  dcsJcs  and  regrets  wc  should  be  lost 
indeed.  If  we  do  not  act  on  them  we  shall 
remain  lost  to  ourselves,  to  our  right  uses, 
and  to  God. 

The  shepherd  out  in  the  wilderness  to  find 
one  sheep  out  of  a  great  flock  of  a  hundred 
shows  that  God  seetks  each  one  of  us,  no  mat- 
ter how  many  there  are  nor  how  vast  the 
world  is ;  and  so  of  one  piece  of  silver  out  of 
ten.  The  love  of  the  father  for  one  son  out 
of  only  two  shows  how  much  he  cares  for 
each  of  us.  God  does  not  forget  you,  but 
seeks  you  in  Christ  to  save  you,  if  you  are 
only  one  out  of  a  hundred  or  more.  God  in 
Christ  loves  you  and  seeks  you  to  save  you 
as  earnestly  as  if  he  had  only  two  sons  and 
you  were  one  of  those  two. 


117 


f 


If; 


m 


hi\ 


An  Extraordinary  Saint 

By 

William  R.  Richards,  D.D. 

Pastor  of  the  Crescent  Avenue  Presbyterian  Church,  Plainfield,  N.  J. 

"  ^nd  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  cjnw  tiiightih'  upon  him, 
and  he  rent  him  as  he  would  have  rent  a  kid,  and  he 
had  nothing  in  his  hand:  but  he  told  not  his  father  or  his 
mother  what  he  had  done"— Judges  xiv.  6. 

SAMSON — the  most  extraordinary  char- 
acter in  the  whole  catalogue  of  saints. 
We  are  puzzled  to  see  how  he  deserves  to 
be  called  a  saint ;  yet  there  stands  his  name, 
canonized  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews: 
"  Gideon,  Barak,  Samson  " — one  of  the  heroes 
of  the  faith. 

It  is  a  hundred  years,  perhaps,  since  Gideon, 
the  great  judge,  broke  the  power  of  the  Midi- 
anites.     The  tribes  of  Israel,  united  for  a  little 

by  his  valor,  had  soon  fallen  asunder  after 

ii8 


.< . » 


am 


.pfl 

i! 

;{ 

ill 


! 


k 


iri 


rr 


^(.1 


I 


f  i 


li 


i 


it 


i, 


I 

ii 


b 


y^ 


v 


i^ 


!l 


I 


Philistines 

his  death,  once  more  an  easy  prey  to  any 
new  enemy.  The  most  formidable  of  the 
new  enemies  were  the  PhiHstines,  a  race  of 
strangers  from  nobody  knows  where,  who 
had  estabhshed  themselves  in  the  lowlands  to 
the  southwest  of  Canaan.  A  dull,  heavy, 
slow-witted  people,  but  of  great  bodily 
strength  and  devoted  to  war,  they  had  com- 
pletely subdued  the  southern  part  of  Canaan, 
reducing  the  wretched  Hebrews  there  to  such 
a  state  of  dependence  that  now  they  could 
not  even  get  a  plow  sharpened  without 
going  down  to  some  smith  among  the  Phi- 
listines. 

It  was  a  happy  stroke  of  wit  on  the  part 
of  the  German  student  who  fastened  this 
name  "  Philistine  "  to  the  townspeople  round 
about  the  university — the  uncultured  but 
prcsperous  middle  classes,  whom  the  poor 
sciv  liar  or  artist  cringes  to  and  laughs  at  by 
tuni  \  Well,  such  was  this  race  which  had 
now  humiliated  poor  Israel.  For  several 
generations  to  come  the  struggle  for  national 

existence  will  be  against  them,  culminating 

119 


I 


m 


I' 


J 


m 


4 


i^  ^h; 


J  «.:4m 


An  Extraordinary  Saint 


%     ! 


i-   I  t 


at  last  in  the  glorious  and  triumphant  career 
of  David. 

Now  it  was  Samson  who  began  the  resis- 
tance which  David  brought  to  such  grand 
conclusion,  and  so  we  can  understand  how 
for  Hebrew  patriots  ever  after  the  name  of 
Samson  shared  the  glory  of  his  more  illustri- 
ous successor.  His  story  reads  like  a  series 
of  martial  songs,  and  perhaps  that  is  what 
much  of  it  is — a  series  /  riirtial  songs  rather 
than  prose  record;  but  .  ether  you  read  it 
or  sing  it,  the  story  is  wonderfully  interesting 
and  may  be  profitable. 

I  say  we  can  easily  understand  how  the 
name  of  this  fearless  champion  against  the 
Philistines  should  become  glorious  in  patri- 
otic song  and  story.  What  possible  religious 
significance  it  has  is  not  so  clear.  Yet  the 
tale  is  told  religiously.  This  child  had  been 
supernaturally  promised  to  his  parents,  we 
read,  and  no  doubt  in  answer  to  prayer. 
The  parents  were  to  bring  him  up  as  a  Naz- 
arite.  In  those  days  of  disorder  the  He- 
brews do  not  seem  to  have  followed  the  strict 


120 


V 


A  Nazarite 

rules  of  their  law  concerning  things  clean 
and  unclean, — if,  indeed,  those  laws  were  yet 
enacted  in  their  later  form, — but  this  child 
must  follow  them ;  he  must  be  as  one  sepa- 
rate from  others  in  touching  no  unclean  thing. 
Beyond  that,  he  must  drink  no  wine  nor  strong 
drink,  and  no  razor  must  ever  come  upon  his 
head.     Those  were  the  rules  of  the  Nazarites. 
So  there  was  something  religious  in  him — 
this  quality  of  separateness.     The  length  of 
his  hair — a  curious  mark  of  physical  prowess 
recently  revived — was  important  as  a  chief 
token  of  this  Nazarite  separateness.     More- 
over, he  must  drink  no  wine  nor  strong  drink. 
I  do  not  suppose  the  Hebrew  writer  or  reader 
connected  that  rule  with  the  dangers  of  intox- 
ication, but  we  cannot  fail  to  do  so  to-day, 
knowing  what  we  now  know  of  alcohol  and 
its  effects  on  the  human  system.     Is  it  not 
startling  that  this    old   Nazarite    regulation 
has  slowly  got  itself  established  as  a  rule  of 
training  for  every  modern  Samson  who  wishes 
to  excel  in  strength?     As    Milton   puts  it 
grandly  in  his  poem : 

121 


i 


P 


I'll 
iii 


It 


!. 


I  Hi 


An  Extraordinary  Saint 

"  O  madness,  to  think  use  of  strongest  wines 
And  strongest  drinks  our  chief  support  of  health, 
When  God  with  those  forl)iddcn  made  choice  to  rear 
His  mighty  cliampion,  strong  above  compare, 
Whose  drink  was  only  from  the  liquid  brook." 

So  Samson  grew  up  a  Nazarite  from  birth, 
and  these  Nazarite  peculiarities  made  him  a 
sort  of  religious  personage;  but,  except  for 
these  peculiarities,  he  was  as  little  like  what 
we  call  religious  as  anything  you  could  well 
conceive :  a  strong,  fearless,  irrepressible  boy 
and  lad  and  youth,  true  to  his  Nazarite  vow, 
but  in  other  things  which  we  should  deem 
more  important  setting  no  bridle  to  his  lusts, 
and,  above  all,  overflowing  with  a  quality 
which  we  seldom  associate  with  the  Hebrew 
race ;  for  the  amazing  strength  of  this  man  is 
not  a  more  conspicuous 'trait  in  him  than  his 
rollicking  humor.  His  story  is  the  one  part 
of  the  Bible  which  bubbles  over  with  irre- 
pressible fun.  A  big,  overgrown  boy,  life  was 
one  long  joke  to  him  until  it  was  darkened 
by  his  great  disaster;  and  even  then,  the 
ruling  passion  strong  in  death,  he  contrived 
to  make  the  last  tragedy  itself  a  kind  of  ap- 

122 


His  Good  Humor 

palling  jest,  for  he  first  got  his  enemies  roar- 
ing with  laughter  before  he  pulled  down  the 
roof  on  their  heads.  Whether  he  was  pro- 
posing riddles  at  his  own  wedding  to  his 
Philistine  groomsmen;  or,  when  he  lost  his 
wager,  paying  it  to  the  winners  with  the 
spoil  of  some  of  their  own  friends  whom  he 
slew  for  the  purpose;  or  turning  into  their 
fields  of  grain  a  lot  of  jackals  with  blazing 
torches  tied  to  their  tails,  that  he  might  look 
on  from  the  hillside  and  see  the  manifold 
devastation  spreading  itself  among  the  grain 
and  laugh  at  the  comical  disaster;  or  choos- 
ing a  jaw-bone  of  an  ass  to  slay  Philistines 
with,  and  celebrating  the  fight  in  a  song,  and 
naming  the  place  from  that  extraordinary 
weapon — in  all  his  encounters  with  these 
heavy-witted  foes  Samson  contrived  to  attain 
two  objects :  he  got  his  revenge  on  them  and 
he  got  his  laugh  out  of  them.  The  physical 
strength  and  the  cheerful  good  humor  of  the 
youth  were  alike  unconquerable,  and  it  is  an 
interesting  fact  that  the  scholars  are  in  some 

doubt  whether  his  name  means  strong  or  sunny. 

123 


'^ 

i 

^  1 

h^m 

!  '^ " 

'1 

1-       : 

■ 

1        1 

k. 

if. 

1 

'I 

; 

■ 

:tl 

\fM 


I 


'J 


if'l 


ft    t 

S)   ■   ; 
»l    ■ 


'if 


f 


ii 


III 


-—y^- 


An  Extraordinary  Saint 


r 


Reading  the  Bible  with  our  Puritan  asso- 
ciations and  antecedents,  we  have  not  always 
appreciated  this  feature  of  the  story.  Our 
Samson  is  rather  the  Samson  Agonistes  of 
Milton's  poem,  a  splendid  poetic  creation, 
but  by  no  means  the  same  man  with  this 
Samson  of  the  Book  of  Judges;  for  John 
Milton,  Puritan  that  he  was,  had  little  time 
for  laughter.  His  hero  moves  on  sedately  in 
majestic  blank  verse,  fit  captain  for  some 
regiment  of  solemn-visaged  Ironsides ;  but 
the  real  Samson  laughed  himself  out  of  his 
cradle,  and  through  one  chapter  of  his  life 
into  another,  and  into  his  grave  at  last. 

We  thank  God  for  our  Puritan  ancestry 

and  for  their  solemn,  steadfast  righteousness ; 

but  I  thank  God  also  that  the  inspired  list  of 

saints  finds  room,  somewhere  between  Enoch 

and  Moses  and  Samuel  and  all  the  prophets, 

for  poor  Samson,  the  sunny  and  the  strong. 

So,  then,  this  element  of  humor  and  fun  is 

not  all  of  the  devil,  though  the  evil  one  may 

have   contrived   to   appropriate   such    large 

tracts  of  it  for  his  uses.     There  is  a  great 

124 


i* 


Because  Ye  are  Strong 

deal  of  jesting  that  the  apostle  calls  foolish 
and  not  convenient ;  those  who  make  a  mock 
at  sin  are  fools ;  it  is  the  laughter  of  fools 
that  is  like  the  crackling  of  thorns  under  a 
pot;  the  beatitude  is  for  those  who  mourn. 
Yet  in  spite  of  all  this,  the  Bible  also  sets 
forward  this  other  side  of  the  truth  and  tells 
how  God  himself  can  fill  men's  souls  with  joy 
and  laughter,  and  that  his  appointed  cham- 
pion may  be  the  sunny  and  strong. 

"  I  write  unto  you,  young  men,  because 
ye  are  strong,"  says  the  apostle;  not  in  spite 
of  your  strength  and  all  those  cheerful  ele- 
ments of  soul  which  compose  it— not  in  spite 
of  it,  but  because  ye  are  strong  and  sunny- 
hearted.  Behold  this  champion  whose  name 
would  cheer  the  Hebrews  through  genera- 
tions of  hard  struggle  against  the  t'^rrible 
Philistines  to  final  victory  over  them,  because 
God  had  given  him  such  mighty  strength 
and  such  healthy  and  resolute  and  infectious 
good  humor.  "  I  write  unto  you,  young 
men,  because  ye  are  strong  "  ;  and  remember 
these  same  qualities  of  youthful  strength  and 

"5 


^  ■*  ■, 


iM 


\ 


f 


!  i 


^ 


1 


An  Extraordinary  Saint 

good  humor  and  natural,  happy  hopcfuhiess 
ought  to  be  serving  some  good  purpose  in 
the  Lord's  campaign  against  sin,  putting 
heart  into  your  sadder  neighbors  to  fight  on 
the  same  side. 

But  I  would  not  leave  the  impression  that 
this  story  of  Samson  is  altogether  pleasant 
reading.  It  ought  to  be,  but  much  of  it  is 
not — quite  the  reverse  ;  it  is  laughable,  but  it 
is  very  sad.  His  life-story  is  so  nearly  a  fail- 
ure. So  far  our  English  poet  was  justified  in 
making  it  the  basis  of  a  tragedy.  With  all 
his  strength  he  was  so  pitiably  weak.  Sam- 
son had  his  laugh  out  of  the  Philistine  men, 
but  their  sisters  avenged  them  on  him,  mak- 
ing a  slave  and  tool  and  fool  of  him.  The 
old  writer  tells  his  tale  straight  on  without 
stopping  to  moralize  much,  but  where  can 
you  find  a  sermon  on  the  need  of  personal 
purity  like  this — so  magnificently  strong,  so 
fatally  and  contemptibly  weak  ?  Of  the  two 
forms  of  sin  which  specially  assail  young 
men,  Samson  may  guard  us  from  the  one 

by  way  of  example,  and  from  the  other  by 

126 


I 

; 
i 


Purity 

way  of  warniniT.  Touching  no  wine,  he  ex- 
celled in  strength  ;  but  he  listened  to  Delilah, 
and  there  quickly  followed  weakness,  dark- 
ness, the  prison-house,  the  grave.  A  giant 
for  muscle,  but  not  a  strong  man  all  round. 
He  was  a  weakling  beside  that  hero  of  Tenny- 
son's who  could  say : 

"  My  good  blade  carves  the  casques  of  men; 
My  tough  lance  thrustcth  sure  ; 
My  strength  is  as  the  strength  of  ten, 
Because  my  heart  is  pure." 

But  it  would  be  a  great  mistake  to  suppose 
that  Samson's  only  fault  was  his  susceptibility 
to  woman's  beauty.  That  became  a  fatal 
blemish  in  his  character  because  of  something 
else  that  was  amiss  in  him,  or  lacking  in  him. 
His  great  fault  was  of  omission  more  than  ot 
commission.  The  reason  why  he  followed 
after  that  which  was  evil  was  that  he  lacked 
something  else  to  follow  after— something 
that  was  good.  Beyond  the  mere  obedience 
to  his  Nazarite  vow,  can  you  point  out  a 
single  ennobling  purpose  in  this  man's  life,  a 
single  persistent  purpose  of  any  sort,  except 

127 


4 


I    I 


♦  II 


,1 


i 


i 


{{    \h 


^-i- 


isr^ 


An  Extraordinary  Saint 

to  get  his  own  amusement  out  of  life  as  he 
went  through  it?  lie  shows  a  kind  of  patri- 
otism, perhaps,  but  of  no  very  exalted  quality ; 
for  it  appears  that  this  valiant  Hebrew  slew 
Philistines  chiefly  for  purposes  of  his  own, 
to  satisfy  his  own  grudges.  No  doubt  God 
might  use  the  man's  exploits. afterward  for 
rousing  Israel  and  encouraging  her  against 
her  foes.  But  Samson  himself  betrays  no 
such  large  purpose  or  expectation  ;  he  was 
avenging  himself,  that  was  all,  or  else  amus- 
ing himself. 

Ah,  young  men,  rejoice  in  your  strength, 
and  laugh,  if  you  will,  when  your  hearts  are 
glad;  but  it  is  a  sad  thing  to  pass  through 
this  world  with  nothing  better  to  do  than 
laughing;  and  the  more  strength,  the  worse 
for  you,  perhaps,  if  you  can  find  no  good 
purpose  to  terve  with  it.  You  see  a  young 
man  developing  physical  prowess  in  his  games, 
and  so  long  as  the  game  lasts  you  are  satis- 
fied if  he  fairly  wins ;  but  what  a  melancholy 
failure  the  life  seems  if  that  young  Hercules 

carries  out  into  the  world  that  splendid  phy- 

128 


\   ^ 


Want  ot  Purpose 

siquc,  hut  finds  nothing  there  to  do  with  it, 

P'^  "ort  of  man's   work   to  make   this  world 

liappier   and   better,   nothing  but   to   go   on 

amusing  himself  all  his  days,   until   he  falls 

victim  to  some  fatal  dissipation!      Or  even  if 

it  be  strength  of  mind  that  his  studies  have 

developed  in  him,  how  far  is  that  better  than 

strength  of  body  if  the  man  finds  no  manly 

work  to  do  with  it,  no  deliberate  campaign 

for  Israel  against  the  Philistines,  nothing  but 

to  go  on  amusing  himself  with  his  strength 

all  his  days?     What  Samson  teaches   us  by 

way  of  warning  is  that  we  must  get  something 

which  he  had  not — some  steadfast,  ennobling 

purpose  worthy  of  whatever  strength  God  has 

given    us.     That    is    the    safeguard    against 

temptation.     Delilah  would  have  had  little 

chance  at  the  hero  if  he  had  had  something 

to  do.     Laughter  is  to  cheer  a  man  in  his 

work,   not    to   take   the   place   of  his    work. 

Games  and  sports  are  for  the  spare  holiday, 

or  for  evening's  refreshment  when  day's  task 

is  done ;  the  long  day  itself  is  not  a  game  or 

a  joke.     "  They  that  sow  in  tears  shall  reap 

129 


MJi 


'■' 


il 


i.j 


i  f 


if 


An  Extraordinary  Saint 


>»     (< 


L 


s 


in  joy.  "■  So  was  our  mouth  filled  with 
laughter."  But  to  let  other  men  do  all  the 
painful  sowing  while  he  spent  his  whole  time 
getting  his  idle  sport  cut  of  theirfaults  and  foi- 
bles, like  this  big,  playful  champion  of  Israel, 
was  not  the  way  a  strong  man  ought  to  live 
his  life  through,  not  good  business  for  a  saint. 

Indeed,  as  we  keep  our  eyes  on  this  strange 
character,  the  wonder  continually  grows  how 
any  one  ever  ventured  to  call  him  a  saint. 
What  did  Samson  to  deserve  the  title? 
"Through  faith,"  says  the  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews ;  but  where  did  faith  come  in  with 
a  character  like  *his? 

That  question  was  partly  answered  for  us 
at  the  outset.  This  man  was  a  Nazarite. 
"  To  touch  no  unclean  thing,  to  drink  no 
wine  or  strong  drink,  to  leave  his  head  un- 
shaven"— so  far  as  it  went  this  was  matter 
of  religious  principle  with  him,  for  he  be- 
lieved these  peculiar  customs  to  be  God's  will 
for  him.  I  lis  obedience  in  that  one  particular 
was  matter  of  faith ;  that  was  not  a  jest. 
Samson  laughed  at  almost  everything  else, 


130 


One  Thread  of  Faith 


but  not  at  his  own  extraordinary  head  of 
hair;  and  I  fancy  if  any  unwary  Philistine 
ever  laughed  at  it  in  his  presence,  it  was  his 
last  laugh  in  this  world. 

There  does  not  seem  much  piety  in  that 
— that  little  patch  of  solemn  reality  in  a 
man's  life,  when  all  the  rest  was  treated  so 
slightingly.  No,  it  was  very  little;  yet  see 
how  even  that  little  may  be  enough  to  save 
the  man.  If  a  man's  heart  is  bound  to  the 
holy  will  of  God  by  any  frailest  bond  of  will- 
ing obedience,  just  that  may  be  enough  yet 
to  save  the  man,  that  is,  to  let  God  save  him. 
All  the  rest  of  Samson's  life  was  somewhat 
ignoble;  not  deliberately  wicked,  perhaps, 
rude  and  undeveloped  rather;  a  big,  playful 
animal,  too  idle  to  lift  himself  to  the  dignity 
of  moral  choice,  l^ut  here  in  the  matter  of 
his  Nazarite  vow  was  one  moral  principle,  one 
thread  of  religious  faith  binding  his  big  brute 
nature  to  the  holy  God  above  him  ;  and  while 
that  thread  holds,  though  the  whoi.  man 
may  seem  more  animal  than  angel,  _.  et  there 
is  hope  of  his  final  salvation. 

131 


kt 


•f    .    i 


I 


mu^  r 


If 


,-) 


An  Extraordinary  Saint 


!> 


m 


II, 


1 


i 


I 


I 


i! 


i 


>i 


)  f 


But  let  Samson  beware  how  he  ever  lets 
that  one  frail  thread  be  broken.  A  holier 
man,  like  Moses,  touching  God  on  every 
side,  if  he  had  chanced  to  be  a  long-haired 
Nazarite  and  some  day  had  lost  his  hair,  it 
might  not  have  mattered  much.  But  poor 
Samson,  losing  that  hair  of  his,  will  have  lost 
all  the  religion  he  ever  had ;  the  Lord  was 
departed  from  him,  his  strength  was  turned 
to  weakness. 

You  will  see  people  who  do  not  impress 
you  as  very  godly,  and  yet  you  do  believe 
them  loyal  to  some  principle ;  careless  about 
other  things,  they  have  been  faithful  to  that. 
Now  I  am  glad  to  believe  that  any  such  faith- 
fully cherished  principle,  which  a  man  would 
not  betray  at  any  cost,  may  be  a  sort  of  ger- 
minal but  genuine  faith  binding  his  soul  to 
God. 

But  what  if  now  the  man  should  lose  even 

that  frail  tie  between  his  soul  and  heaven? 

Thank  God  if  there  is  any  one  conviction  or 

principle  which  in  all   the  trials  of  life  you 

have  always  held  fast,  never  letting  it  go. 

13a 


His  Sin 


Ah,  but  what  if  you  should  let  it  go  now  ?  If 
this  Samson  should  wilfully  break  away  from 
God  by  cutting-  off  his  own  hair,  that  might 
really  be  for  him  what  the  New  Testament 
calls  the  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost. 

You  notice  Samson  was  not  guilty  of  that 
sin,  not  quite.  He  did  not  wilfully  break  his 
own  vow;  he  did  not  cut  off  his  own  hair. 
His  fault  was  in  trusting  a  fair  and  false 
Philistine,  letting  her  beguile  his  judgment 
till  he  told  her  all  that  was  in  his  heart. 
That  was  fall  enough  for  an  Israelite.  You 
have  no  right  to  give  your  whole  heart  so 
unreservedly  to  any  Philistine,  or  any  one 
else  except  the  holy  Lord  above  you.  And 
the  fault  brought  its  swift  and  terrible  pen- 
alty. The  treacherous  temptress  etrayed 
him,  of  course,  robbed  him  of  his  locks  in  his 
sleep  and  gave  him  to  his  enemies.  They 
put  out  his  eyes,  and  bound  him  with  fetters 
of  brass,  and  made  him  grind  in  their  prison- 
house.  At  first  view  one  would  think  the 
end  of  this  man  as  disastrous  as  if  with  his 
own  hand,  with  daring  impiety,  the  Nazarite 

133 


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\'  \ 


L 

! 

{ 

A 

; 

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f 

i 

V 

n 

1 

h  f 

1, 

m 


i<! 


'i 


!( 


mmm 


An  Extraordinary  Saint 


f-  ' 


had  shorn  himself.  So  it  often  seems  to  us; 
the  heedless  faults  of  men  seem  to  entail  as 
fearful  retribution  as  their  deliberate  crimes. 
The  boy  or  man  or  woman  overmastered  by 
sudden  temptuiion  has  let  slip  purity,  honor, 
truth,  integrity,  and  the  life  seems  as  utterly 
shipwrecked  and  darkened  as  if  the  sin  had 
been  committed  with  deliberate  malice. 

But  it  was  not  so ;  that  is  not  the  end  of 
the  story  of  this  man.  For  it  reads:  "  How- 
beit  the  hair  of  his  head  began  to  grow  again 
after  he  was  shaven."  I  am  not  curious  to 
mark  out  the  precise  line  between  history 
and  poetic  allegory  in  sentences  so  sublime  as 
these.  The  divine  favor  and  strength  were 
not  yet  utterly  forfeited  for  Samson ;  that  is 
what  we  can  understand.-  Even  in  his  blind- 
ness the  Spirit  of  God  could  begin  to  make 
him  strong  again.  Why,  that  old  scene  in 
the  dark  Philistine  prison-house  glows  with 
light  as  a  prophecy  of  Christ's  salvation. 
Have  hope  in  God,  you  who  have  been  be- 
trayed and  ruined  by  sin.  There  is  hope  in 
God  for  all,  however  lost,  who  truly  repent 

134 


I '  t 


His  Restoration 

of  their  sin.  For  we  know  that  God  has  sent 
One  into  the  world,  "  and  anointed  him  to 
preach  dehverance  to  the  captives,  and  re- 
covering of  sight  to  the  blind,  to  set  at  liberty 
them  that  are  bruised."  That  is  the  gospel 
of  Christ :  hope  for  the  penitent,  a  glorious 
light  that  was  not  yet  shining  in  those  savage 
days  of  the  judgt:;;  but  can  you  not  see  a 
dim  prophecy  of  it  when  you  read,  "  Howbeit 
the  hair  of  his  head  began  to  grow  again  after 
he  was  shaven  "  ? 

And  so   the   lords   of  the   Philistines  are 
gathered  to  oflfer  sacrifice  in  the  temple  of 
their  god  ;  and  they  send  for  their  dishonored 
enemy  to  make  sport  for  them  ;  and  his  hands 
touched  the  pillars  of  the   house,   and  one 
earnest  prayer  of  faith  rises  to  the  God  of  his 
strength,  and  he  bowed  himself  with  all  his 
might ;  and  the  epitaph  stands :  "  The  dead 
which  he  slew  at  his  death  were  more  than 
they  which  he  slew  in  his  life."     So  he  died 
triumphantly  at  last,  this  Hebrew  champion. 
He  could  be  counted  among  the  victorious 
believers,   and   his  name  will  yet  cheer  his 

135 


i 


•111 


(•• 


(a 


li 


An  Extraordinary  Saint 


^ 


I:       i 


i      !• 


>  ! 


people  to  stubborn  resistance  and  final  vic- 
tory over  their  Philistine  oppressors ;  for  God 
had  regarded  his  penitence,  the  hair  of  his 
head  grew  and  his  strength  came  back  to  him 
in  the  prison. 

Oh  yes,  we  may  have  hope  in  God,  how- 
ever we  may  have  been  betrayed  by  the  de- 
ceitfulness  of  sin. 

Yet  it  was  a  sad  and  tragical  triumph, 
after  all — better  than  nothing;  and  if  you 
were  speaking  to  a  company  of  miserable  old 
men,  who  had  already  thrown  away  the 
chances  and  hopes  of  a  lifetime,  you  would 
be  glad  to  hold  out  to  them  even  that  sort  of 
meager  encouragement.  Better  to  be  saved 
so  as  by  fire  than  to  be  lost  altogether. 

But  I  could  not  possibly  satisfy  myself  with 
the  thought  of  any  such  destiny  for  you — 
you  men  with  the  choice  opportunities  of  life 
still  looking  you  in  the  face.  I  chose  this  as 
a  topic  mainly  with  the  purpose  of  urging 
you  not  to  throw  away  your  lives  as  that 
strong  man  threw  away  so  much  of  his 
through  his  idle,  aimless   uselessness.     Oh, 

136 


1/ 
I 


Walk  in  the  Spirit 

be  sure  to  find  some  man's  work  to  do ;  pray 
God  to  give  you  some  man's  work  to  do  with 
your  strength  o{  body,  and  your  strength  of 
mind,  and  the  natural,  good-humored  hope- 
fulness of  your  young  manhood.  That  is  a 
prayer  you  need  not  fear  to  ofTer  in  Christ's 
name;  it  is  a  Christian  prayer.  If  God  will 
put  enough  strong,  positive  Christian  purpose 
into  your  heart  and  life  you  will  be  safe  from 
the  Philistines,  I  think ;  but  in  no  other  way. 
If  you  are  walking  in  the  Spirit  you  will  not 
fulfil  the  lusts  of  the  flesh. 


IS(| 

1^ 


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i 

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1 

■ ' 

'^ 

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« 

I 

h 

1 

h 

1 

1' 

137 


h\ 


I 


# 


The  Meaning  of  Manhood 


1  i' 


i  i: 


By 
Henry  van  Dyke,  D.D. 

Pastor  of  the  Brick  Churcli,  New  York 

"  Ho-w  much,  then,  is  a  nmti  better  than  a  sheep!" — 
Matt.  xii.  12. 

ON  the  lips  of  Christ  these  noble  words 
were  an  exclamation.  He  knew,  as  no 
one  else  has  ever  known,  "  what  was  in  man." 
But  to  us  who  repeat  them  they  often  seem 
like  a  question.  We  are  so  ignorant  of  the 
deepest  meaning  of  manhood,  that  we  find 
ourselves  at  the  point  to  ask  in  perplexity, 
How  much,  after  all,  is  a  man  better  than  a 
sheep  ? 

It  is  evident  that  the  answer  to  this  ques- 
tion must  depend  upon  our  general  view  of 
life.  There  are  two  very  common  ways  of 
looking  at  existence  that  set':le  our  judgment 

138 


'A 


Ii 


8 


:l 


k/fit^^ 


r 


A 


ii-' 


\<A 


i 


^■u 


m 


I'i 


~ 


1  \ 


The  View  of  Materialism 


of  the  comparative  value  of  a  man  and  a 
sheep,  at  once  and  inevitably. 

Suppose,  in  the  first  place,  that  we  take  a 
materialistic  view   of   life.      Looking  at  the 
world  from  this  standpoint,  we  shall  see  in  it  a 
great  mass  of  matter,  curiously  regulated  by 
laws  which  have  results,  but  no  purposes,  and 
agitated  into  various  modes  of  motion  by  a 
secret  force  whose  origin  is,  and  forever  must 
be,  unknown.     Life,  in  man  as  in  other  ani- 
mals, is  but  one  form  of  this  force.     Rising 
through   many  subtle   gradations,  from   the 
first  tremor  that  passes  through  the  gastric 
nerve  of  a  jellyfish  to  the  most  delicate  vibra- 
tion of  gray  matter  in  the  brain  of  a  Plato  or 
a  Shakespeare,  it  is  really  the  same  from  the 
beginning  to  the  end — physical  in  its  birth 
among  the  kindred  forces  of  heat  and  electri- 
city, physical  in  its  death  in  cold  ashes  and 
dust.     The  only  difference  between  man  and 
the  other  animals  is  a  difTerence  of  degree. 
The  ape  takes  his  place  in  our  ancestral  tree, 
and  the  sheep  becomes  our  distant  cousin. 
It  is  true  that  we  have  somewhat  the  ad- 

139 


i> 


S 


M 


i         H 


The  Meaning  of  Manhood 


r.^ ! 


I    . 


I  i  H  \ 


I 


vantage  of  these  poor  relations.  We  belong 
to  the  more  fortunate  branch  of  the  family, 
and  have  entered  upon  an  inheritance  con- 
siderably enlarged  by  *-he  extinction  of  collat- 
eral branches.  But,  after  all,  it  is  the  same 
inheritance,  and  there  is  nothing  in  humanity 
which  is  not  derived  from  and  destined  to 
our  mother  earth. 

If,  then,  we  accept  this  view  of  life,  what 
answer  can  we  give  to  the  question.  How 
much  is  a  man  better  than  a  sheep?  We 
must  say :  He  is  a  little  better,  but  not  much. 
In  some  things  he  has  the  advantage.  He 
lives  longer,  and  has  more  powers  of  action 
and  capacities  of  pleasure.  He  is  more 
clever,  and  has  succeeded  in  making  the 
sheep  subject  to  his  domination.  But  the 
balance  is  not  all  on  one  side.  The  sheep  has 
fewer  pains  as  well  as  fewer  pleasures,  less 
care  as  well  ar  less  power.  If  it  does  not 
know  how  to  make  a  coat,  at  least  it  suc- 
ceeds in  growing  its  own  natural  wool  cloth- 
ing, and  that  without  taxation.     Above  all, 

the  sheep  is  not  troubled  with  any  Oi"  those 

140 


X 


The  View  of  Commercialism 

vain  dreams  of  moral  responsibility  and  future 
life  which  are  the  cause  of  such  great  and 
needless  trouble  to  humanity.  The  flocks 
that  fed  in  the  pastures  of  Bethlehem  got  just 
as  much  physical  happiness  out  of  existence 
as  the  shepherd  David  who  watched  them, 
and,  being  natural  agnostics,  they  were  free 
from  David's  delusions  in  regard  to  religion. 
They  could  give  all  their  attention  to  eating, 
drinking,  and  sleeping,  which  is  the  chief  end 
of  life.  From  the  materialistic  standpoint,  a 
man  may  be  a  little  better  than  a  sheep,  but 
not  much. 

Or  suppose,  in  the  second  place,  that  we 
take  the  commercial  view  of  life,  ^^e  shall 
then  say  that  all  things  must  be  measured  by 
their  money  value,  and  that  it  is  neither  profi- 
table nor  necessary  to  inquire  into  their  real 
nature  or  their  essential  worth.  Men  and 
sheep  are  worth  what  they  will  bring  in  the 
open  market,  and  this  depends  upon  the  sup- 
ply and  demand.  Sheep  of  a  very  rare  breed 
have  been  sold  for  as  much  as  five  or  six 
thousand    dollars.       But    men    of   common 


li 


\l 


I', 


«4« 


The  Meaning  of  Manhood 


'i  i  1  ' 


'i  ,' 


stock,  in  places  where  men  are  plenty  and 
cheap  (as,  for  example,  in  Central  Africa), 
may  be  purchased  for  the  price  of  a  rusty 
musket  or  a  piece  of  cotton  cloth.  Accord- 
ing^ to  this  principle,  we  must  admit  that  the 
comparative  value  of  a  man  and  a  sheep  fluc- 
tuates with  the  market,  and  that  there  are 
times  when  the  dumb  animal  is  much  the 
more  valuable  of  the  two. 

This  view,  carried  out  to  its  logical  con- 
clusion, led  to  slavery,  and  put  up  men  and 
sheep  at  auction  on  tlie  same  block,  to  be  dis- 
posed of  to  the  highest  bidder.  We  have 
gotten  rid  of  the  iooical  conclusion.  But 
have  wc  gotten  rid  entirely  of  the  premise 
on  which  it  rcstcil  ?  Does  not  the  commercial 
view  of  life  still  prevail'  in  civilized  society? 

There  is  a  certain  friend  of  mine  who  often 
entertains  me  witli  an  account  of  the  banquets 
which  he  has  attended.  On  one  occasion  he 
told  me  that  two  great  railroads  and  the  major 
part  of  all  the  sugar  and  oil  in  the  United 
States  sat  down  at  tiie  same  table  with  three 
gold-mines  and  a  line  of  steamships. 

14a 


■| 


1 


ll 


1 


,\ 


The  Money  Standard 

"  How  much  is  that  man  worth?  "  asks  the 
curious  inquirer.  "That  man,"  answers  some 
walking  business  directory, "  is  worth  a  million 
dollars  ;  and  the  man  sitting  next  to  him  is  not 
worth  a  penny."  What  other  answer  can  be 
given  by  one  who  judges  everything  by  a 
money  standard  ?  If  wealth  is  really  the  meas- 
ure  of  value,  if  the  end  of  life  is  the  production 
ortheacquisitionof  riches,  then  humanity  must 
take  its  place  in  the  sliding  scale  of  commo- 
dities. Its  value  is  not  fixed  and  certain.  It 
depends  upon  accidents  of  trade.  W'c  must 
learn  to  look  ui)on  ourseh'cs  and  our  fellow- 
men  purely  from  a  business  point  of  view  and 
to  ask  only:  What  can  this  man  make?  how 
much  has  that  man  made?  how  nuich  can  I 
get  out  of  this  man's  labor?  how  much  will 
that  man  pay  for  my  services?  Those  little 
children  that  play  in  the  squalid  city  streets 
— they  are  nothing  to  me  or  to  the  world  ; 
there  are  too  man}'  of  them  ;  they  are  worth- 
less. Those  long-fleeced,  high-bred  sheep 
that  feed  upon  my  pastures — they  are  anu^ng 
my  most  costly  possessions;  they  will  bring 

U3 


h 
I 

si 


m 


'  I  ■■w^w  I  L 


The  Meaning  of  Manhood 


.<■ 


k^ 


lO 


!:  II 


I;  !/• 


r 


an  enormous  price;  they  are  immensely  valu- 
able. How  much  is  a  man  better  than  a 
sheep?  What  a  foolish  question!  Some- 
times the  man  is  better  ;  sometimes  the  sheep 
is  better.  It  all  depends  upon  the  supply 
and  demand.       ^V  <  >   r.<.  i.  --•  .r.-      ,  ■:,      c  *<  - 

Now  these  two  views  of  life,  the  materi- 
alistic and  the  commercial,  alwavs  have 
prevailed  in  the  world.  Men  have  held 
them  consciously  and  unconsciously.  At 
this  very  day  there  are  some  who  profess 
them,  and  there  are  many  who  act  upon 
them,  althouL;h  they  may  not  be  willing  to 
acknowledge  them.  They  have  been  the 
parents  of  countless  errors  in  philosophy  and 
sociology;  they  have  bred  innumerable  and 
loathsome  vices  and  shames  and  cruelties  and 
oppressions  in  the  human  race.  It  was  to 
shatter  and  destroy  these  falsehoods,  to 
sweep  them  away  from  the  mind  and  heart 
of  humanity,  that  Jesus  Christ  came  into  the 
world.  We  caimot  receive  his  gospel  in  any 
sense,  we  cannot  begin  to  understand  its 
scope  and  purpose,  unless  we  fully,  freely, 

144 


■  i 


i 


Christ  Reveals  Man  to  Himself 

and  sincerely  accept  his  great  revelation  of 
the  true  meaning  and  value  of  man  as  man. 
We  say  this  was  his  revelation.      Undoubt- 
edly it  is  true  that  Christ  came  to  reveal  God 
to  man.      But  undoubtedly  it  is  just  as  true 
that  he  came  to  reveal  man  to  himself.      He 
call-d  himself  the  Son  of  God,  but  he  called 
himself  also   the  Son  of  man.      His  nature 
was  truly  divine,  but  his  nature  was  no  less 
truly  human.      He  became  man.     And  what 
is  the  meaning  of  that  lowly  birth,  in  the 
most  helpless  form  of  infancy,  if  it  be  not  to 
teach  us  that  humanity  is  so  related  to  deity 
that  it  is  capable  of  receiving  and  embodying 
God  himself  ?     He  died  for  man.     And  what 
is  the  meaning  of  that  sacrifice,  if  it  be  not  to 
teach  us  that  God  counts  no  price  too  great 
to  pay  for  the  redemption  of  the  human  soul  ? 
This  gospel  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus 
Christ  contains  the  highest,  grandest,  most 
ennobling  doctrine  of  humanity  that  ever  has 
been   proclaimed  on   earth.     It  is  the  only 
certain  cure  for  low  and  debasing  views  of 
life.     It  is  the  only  doctrine  from  which  we 

145 


ff 


I) 


The  Meaning  of  Manhood 


pj 


\  : 


:  i 


)    I 


can  learn  to  think  of  ourselves  and  our  fellow- 
men  as  we  ought  to  think.  I  ask  you  to 
consider  for  a  little  while  the  teachings  of 
Jesus  Christ  in  regard  to  what  it  means  to  be 
a  man. 

Suppose,  then,  that  we  come  to  him  with 
this  question :  How  much  is  a  man  better 
than  a  sheep?  He  will  tell  us  that  a  man  is 
infinitely  better,  because  he  is  the  child  of 
God,  because  he  is  capable  of  fellowship  with 
God,  and  because  he  is  made  for  an  immortal 
life.  And  this  threefold  answer  will  shine  out 
for  us  not  only  in  the  words,  but  also  in  the 
deeds,  and  above  all  in  die  death,  of  the  Son 
of  God  and  the  Son  of  man. 

1.  Think,  first  of  all,  of  the  meaning  of 
manhood  in  the  light  of  the  truth  that  man 
is  ^he  offspring  and  likeness  of  God.  This 
was  not  a  new  doctrine  first  proclaimed  by 
Christ.  It  was  clearly  taught  in  the  mag- 
nificent imagery  of  the  Book  of  Genesis. 
The  chief  design  of  that  great  picture  of 
the  beginnings   is   to   show  that  a  personal 

Creator  is  the  source  and  author  of  all  things 

146 


i 


i 


In  the  Image  of  God 

that  are  made.  But  next  to  that,  and  of 
equal  importance,  is  the  design  to  show 
that  man  is  incalculabl}-  superior  to  all 
the  other  works  of  Gud— that  the  distance 
between  him  and  the  lower  animals  is  not  a 
difference  in  degree,  but  a  difference  in  kind. 
Yes,  the  difference  is  so  great  that  we  must 
use  a  new  word  to  describe  the  origin  of 
humanity,  and  if  we  speak  of  the  stars  and 
the  earth,  the  trees  and  the  flowers,  the  fishes, 
the  birds,  and  the  beasts,  as  "the  works" 
of  God,  when  man  appears  we  must  find  a 
nobler  name  and  say,  "  This  is  more  than 
God's  work;  he  is  God's  child." 

Our  human  consciousness  confirms  this 
testimony  and  answers  to  it.  We  know  that 
there  is  something  in  us  which  raises  us  in- 
finitely above  the  things  that  we  see  and  hear 
and  touch,  and  the  creatures  that  appear 
to  spend  their  brief  life  in  the  automatic 
workings  of  sense  and  instinct.  These  powers 
of  reason  and  affection  and  conscience,  and 
above  all  this  wonderful  power  of  free  will, 
the    faculty    of    swift,    sovereign,    voluntary 

147 


* 


uHliki. 


!       I  / 


'. 


'A 


I    1 


)    ! 


The  Meaning  of  Maniiood 

choice,  belong  to  a  higher  being.  We  say 
not  to  corruption,  "Thou  art  my  father,"  nor  to 
theworm,"  Thou  art  my  mother"  ;  but  to  God, 
"Thou  art  my  Fatlier,"  and  to  the  great  Spirit, 
"  In  thee  was  my  Hfe  born." 

"  Not  only  cunning  casts  in  day  : 

Let  Science  prove  we  are,  and  then 
What  matters  Science  unto  men, 
At  least  to  nie?     I  would  not  stay. 

"  Let  him,  the  wiser  man  wlio  springs 
Hereafter,  up  from  childhood  shape 
His  action  like  the  greater  ape; 
But  I  was  />oni  toother  things." 

Frail  as  our  physical  existence  maybe,  in  some 
respects  the  mt  st  frail,  the  most  defenseless 
among  animals,  we  are  yet  conscious  of  some- 
thing that  lifts  us  up  and  makes  us  supreme. 
"  Man,"  says  Pascal,-  "  is  but  a  reed,  the 
feeblest  thing  in  nature ;  but  he  is  a  reed 
that  thinks.  It  needs  not  that  the  universe 
arm  itself  to  crush  him.  An  exhalation,  a 
drop  of  water,  suffice  to  destroy  him.  But 
were  the  universe  to  crush  him,  man  is  yet 
nobler  than  the  universe ;  for  he  knows  that 
he  dies,  and  the  universe,  even  in  prevailing 

against  him,  knows  not  its  power." 

1 48 


V 


The  Direct  Appeal 

Now  the  beauty  and  strength  of  Christ's 
doctrine  of  man  lie,  not  in  the  fact  that  he 
was  at  pains  to  explain  and  defend  and  justify 
this  view  of  human  nature,  but  in  the  fact  that 
he  assumed  it  with  an  unshaken  conviction  of 
its  truth,  and  acted  upon  it  always  and  every- 
where. He  spoke  to  man,  not  as  the  product 
of  nature,  but  as  tiie  child  of  God.  He  took 
it  for  granted  that  we  are  difTerent  from 
plants  and  animals,  and  that  we  are  conscious 
of  the  difTerence.  "  Consider  the  lilies,"  he 
says  to  us ;  "  the  lilies  cannot  consider  them- 
selves :  they  know  not  what  they  are,  nor 
what  their  life  means ;  but  you  know,  and 
you  can  draw  the  lesson  of  their  lower  beauty 
into  your  higher  life.  Regard  the  birds  of  the 
air;  they  are  dumb  and  unconscious  depen- 
dents upon  the  divine  bounty,  but  you  are 
conscious  objects  of  the  divine  care.  Are 
you  not  of  more  value  than  many  sparrows?  " 
Through  all  his  words  wc  feel  the  thrilling 
power  of  this  high  doctrine  of  humanity. 
He  is  always  appealing  to  reason,  to  con- 
science, to  the  power  of  choice  between  good 

149 


^ 


n\ 


I 


^^^^ 


I 


'):! 


I 


H 


\  ;   '    ! 


'i, 


li<^ 


■if 


i 
( 


I  1 


I 


V 


s 


kk 


m 


The  Meaning  of  Manhood 


and  evil,  to  the  noble  and  godlike  faculties  in 
man. 

And  now  think  for  a  moment  of  the  fact 
that  his  life  was  voluntarily,  and  of  set  pur- 
pose, spent  among  the  poorest  and  humblest 
of  mankind.  Remember  that  he  spoke,  not  to 
philosophers  and  scholars,  but  to  peasants  and 
fishermen  and  the  little  children  of  the  world. 
What  did  he  mean  by  that?  Surely  it  was 
to  teach  us  that  this  doctrine  of  the  meaning 
of  manliooil  applies  to  man  as  man.  It 
is  not  based  upon  considerations  of  wealth  or 
learning  or  culture  or  elocpience.  Those  are 
the  things  of  which  the  world  takes  account, 
and  without  which  it  refuses  to  pay  any  at- 
tention to  us.  A  mere  man,  in  the  eyes  of 
the  world,  is  a  nobody.  But  Christ  comes  to 
humanity  in  its  poverty,  in  its  ignorance, 
stripped  of  all  outward  signs  of  power,  desti- 
tute of  all  save  that  which  belongs  in  common 
to  mankind ;  to  this  lowly  child,  this  very 
beggar-maid  of  human  nature,  comes  the 
King,  and  speaks  to  her  as  a  princess  in  dis- 
guise, and  lifts  her  up  and  sets  a  crown  upon 

>5" 


The  Capacity  of  Fellowship 

her  head.  I  ask  you  if  this  simple  fact  ought 
not  to  teach  us  how  much  a  man  is  better 
than  a  sheep. 

2.  lUit  Christ  reveals  to  us  another  and  a 
still  higherelementof  the  meaningof  manhood 
by  speaking  to  us  as  beings  who  are  capable  of 
hokling  C(MTimunion  with  God  and  reflecting 
the  divine  holiness  in  our  hearts  and  lives. 
And  here  also  his  doctrine  gains  clearness 
and  force  when  we  bring  it  into  close  connec- 
tion with  liis  conduct.  I  suppose  that  there 
are  few  of  us  who  windd  not  be  ready  to  ad- 
mit at  once  that  there  are  .'^^onie  men  and 
women  who  have  high  sj;irilual  capacities. 
For  them,  we  say,  religion  is  a  possible  thing. 
They  can  attain  to  the  knowledge  of  God  and 
fellowship  with  him.  They  can  pray,  and 
sing  praises,  and  do  holy  v/ork.  It  is  easy 
for  them  to  be  good.  They  are  born  good. 
They  are  saints  by  nature.  But  for  the  great 
mass  of  the  human  race  this  is  out  of  the 
question,  absurd,  impossible.  They  must 
dwell  in  ignorance,  in  wickedness,  in  impiety. 

But  to  all  this  Christ  says,  "No!"     No, 

m 


ii 


m 


.^i 


II! 


:'(1 


M 


Ml! 


I: 


4«j 


■^ ; ;  i 


t 


I'hc  Meaning  of  Manhood 

to  our  theory  of  perfection  for  the  few.  No, 
tu  our  theory  of  hopeless  degradation  for  the 
many.  I  le  tal<es  his  way  straight  to  the  out- 
casts of  the  world,  the  publicans  and  the 
harlots  and  sinners,  and  to  them  he  speaks  of 
the  mercy  and  the  love  of  God  and  the  beauty 
of  the  heavenly  life ;  not  to  cast  them  into 
black  despair,  not  because  it  was  impossible 
for  them  to  be  good  and  to  find  God,  but 
because  it  was  divinely  possible.  God  was 
waiting  for  them,  and  something  in  them 
was  waiting  for  God.  They  were  lost.  But 
surely  they  never  could  have  been  lost 
unless  they  had  first  of  all  belonged  to 
God,  and  this  made  it  possible  for  them  to 
be  found  again.  They  were  prodigals.  But 
surely  the  prodigal  is  also  a  child,  and  there 
is  a  place  for  him  in  the  father's  house.  He 
may  dwell  among  the  swine,  but  he  is  not  one 
of  them.  He  is  capable  of  remembering  his 
father's  love.  He  is  capable  of  answering  his 
father's  embrace.  He  is  capable  of  dwelling  in 
his  father's  house  in  filial  love  and  obedience. 
That  is  the  doctrine  of  Christ  in  regard  to 

152 


') 


V 


)i 


f  1' 


il 

1 


The  Lost  Likeness 

fallen  and  disordered  and  guilty  human 
nature.  It  is  fallen,  it  is  disordered,  it  is 
guilty ;  but  the  capacity  of  reconciliation,  of 
holiness,  of  love  to  God,  still  dwells  in  it,  and 
may  be  quickened  into  a  new  life.  That  is 
God's  work,  but  God  himself  could  not  do  it 
if  man  were  not  capable  of  it. 

Do  you  remember  the  story  of  the  poi  .rait 
of  Dante  which  is  painted  upon  the  walls  of 
the  Bargello,  at  Florence?  For  many  years 
it  was  supposed  that  the  picture  had  utterly 
perished.  Men  had  heard  of  it,  but  no  one 
living  had  ever  seen  it.  But  presently  came 
an  artist  who  was  determined  to  find  it  again. 
He  went  into  the  place  where  tradition  s  id 
that  it  had  been  painted.  The  room  was  used 
as  a  storehouse  for  lumber  and  straw.  The 
walls  were  covered  with  dirty  whitewash. 
He  had  the  heaps  of  rubbish  carried  away. 
Patiently  and  carefully  he  removed  the  white- 
wash from  the  wall.  Lines  and  colors  long 
hidden  began  to  appear ;  and  at  last  the  grave, 
lofty,  noble  face  of  the  great  poet  looked  out 
again  upon  the  world  of  light. 

153 


I. 


I   ! 


V    (.' 


,< 


The  Meaning  of  Manhood 


in 


k 


"  That  was  wonderful,"  you  say,  "  that  was 
beautiful !  "  Not  half  so  wonderful  as  the  work 
which  Christ  came  to  do  in  the  heart  of  man 
— to  restore  the  fori^otten  likeness  of  God  and 
bring  the  divine  image  to  the  light.  He  comes 
to  "s  with  the  knowledge  that  God's  image  is 
there,  though  concealed  ;  he  touches  us  with 
the  faith  that  the  likeness  can  be  restored. 
To  have  upon  our  hearts  the  impress  of  the 
divine  nature,  to  know  that  there  is  no  human 
being  in  whom  that  treasure  is  not  hidden 
and  from  whose  stained  and  dusty  soul  Christ 
cannot  bring  out  that  reflection  of  God's  face 
—  that,  indeed,  is  to  know  the  meaning  of 
manhood,  and  to  be  sure  that  a  man  is  better 
than  a  sheep ! 

3.  There  is  yet  one  more  element  in 
Christ's  teaching  in  regard  to  the  meaning 
of  manhood,  and  that  is  his  doctrine  of  im- 
mortality. This  truth  springs  inevitably  out 
of  his  teaching  in  regard  to  the  origin  and 
capacity  of  human  nature.  A  being  formed 
in  tlie  divine  image,  a  being  capable  of  reflect- 
ing the  divine  holiness,  is  a  being  so  lofty 

154 


Iiiiinorrality  Brought  to  Light 


I 


that  he  must  have  also  the  capacity  of  enter- 
ing into  a  hfc  which  is  spiritual  and  eternal, 
an(i  which  leads  onward  to  perfection.  All 
that  Christ  teaches  about  man,  all  that  Christ 
offers  to  do  for  man,  ojens  before  him  a  vast 
and  boundless  future. 

This  idea  of  immortality  runs  through 
everythino  that  Jesus  .says  and  does.  Never 
for  a  moment  does  he  speak  to  man  as  a 
creature  who  is  bound  to  this  present  world. 
Never  for  a  moment  docs  he  fori-et,  or  sufTer 
us  to  forget,  that  our  largest  and  most  pre- 
cious treasures  may  be  laid  up  in  the  world  to 
come.  He  woukl  arouse  our  souls  to  perceive 
and  contemplate  the  immense  issues  of  life. 

The  perils  that  l)eset  us  here  through  sin 
are  not  brief  ,tnd  momentary  dangers,  possi- 
bilities of  disgrace  in  the  eyes  of  men,  of 
suffering  such  limited  pnin  as  our  bodies  can 
endure  in  the  disintegrating  process  of  dis- 
ease, of  dying  a  temporal  death,  which  at  the 
worst  can  only  cause  us  a  few  hours  of  an- 
guish. A  man  might  bear  these  things,  and 
take  the  risk  of  this  world's  shame  and  sickness 

155 


i 


mr^ 


.  < 


.  H 


» 


1' " 


The    Mcimiiig  ot    Manhood 


and  death,  for  the  sake  of  some  darh'ng  sin. 
lUit  the  truth  that  flashes  on  us  hke  hghtning 
from  the  word  of  Christ  is  that  the  consequence 
of  sin  is  the  peril  of  losing  our  immortality. 
"  I'Y'ar  not  them  which  kill  the  body,"  said 
he,  "but  are  not  able  to  kill  the  soul;  but 
rather  fear  him  which  is  able  to  destroy  both 
soul  and  body  in  hell." 

On  the  other  hand,  the  opportunities  that 
come  to  us  here  through  the  grace  of  God  are 
not  merely  opportunities  of  temporal  peace 
and  iiappiness.  They  arc  chances  of  securing 
endless  and  inmieasurable  felicity,  wealth  liiat 
can  never  be  counted  or  lost,  peace  that  the 
world  can  neither  give  nor  take  away.  We 
must  understand  that  now  the  kingdom  of 
God  has  come  near  unto  us.  It  is  a  time 
when  the  doors  of  heaven  are  open.  We 
may  gain  an  inheritance  incorruptible,  and 
undefiled,  and  that  fadeth  not  away.  We 
may  lay  hold  not  oidy  on  a  present  joy  of 
holiness,  but  on  an  everlasting  life  with  God. 

It  is  thus  that  Christ  looks  upon  the  children 

of  men :  not  as  herds  of  dumb,  driven  cattle, 

156 


; '    ii 


Our  Need  of  Christ's  Teaching 

but  as  living  souls  moving  onward  to  eternity. 
It  is  thus  that  he  dies  for  men:  not  to  deliver 
them  from  brief  sorrows,  but  to  save  them 
from  final  loss  and  to  bring  them  into  bliss 
that  knows  no  end.  It  is  thus  that  he  speaks 
to  us,  in  solemn  words  before  which  our 
dreams  of  earthly  pleasure  and  po\\er  and 
fame  and  wealth  are  dissipr,'  -1  like  unsub- 
stantial vapors:  "What  shall  it  profit  a  man, 
if  he  gain  the  whole  world,  and  lose  his  own 
soul  ?  Or  what  shall  a  man  give  in  exchange 
for  his  soul?  " 


There  never  was  a  time  in  which  Chri'^t's 
d(Ktrine  of  the  meaning  of  manhooj  was 
more  needed  than  it  is  to-day.  There  is 
no  truth  more  important  and  necessary  for 
us  to  take  ir^o  our  hearts,  and  hold  fast, 
and  carry  out  in  our  lives.  F'or  here  we 
stand  in  an  age  when  the  very  throng  and 
pressure  and  superfluity  of  human  life  lead  us 
to  set  a  low  estimate  upon  its  value.  The  air 
we  breathe  is  heavy  with  mate  sialism  and 
commercialism.     The  lowest  and  most  debas- 

157 


1 


The  Meaning  of  ManhooJ 


! 


i^      I 


I  i 


ing  views  of  human  nature  are  freely  pro- 
claimed and  unconsciously  accepted.  There 
is  no  escape,  no  safety  for  us,  save  in  coming 
back  to  Christ  and  learnincr  from  him  that 
man  is  the  child  of  God,  made  in  the  divine 
image,  capable  of  the  divine  fellowship,  and 
destined  to  an  immortal  life.  1  want  to  tell 
you  just  three  of  the  practical  reasons  why 
we  must  learn  this. 

I.  We  need  to  learn  it  in  order  to  under- 
stand the  real  meaning,  and  guilt,  and  danger, 
and  hatefulness  of  sin. 

Men  are  telling  us  nowadays  that  there  is 
no  such  thing  as  sin.  It  is  a  dream,  a  delu- 
sion. It  must  be  left  out  of  account.  All 
the  evils  in  the  world  are  natural  and  inevi- 
table. They  are  simply  the  secretions  of  hu- 
man nature.  There  is  no  more  shame  or  guilt 
connected  with  them  than  with  the  malaria 
of  the  swamp  or  the  poison  of  the  nightsliade. 

But  Christ  tells  us  that  sin  is  real,  and  that 
it  is  the  enemy,  the  curse,  the  destroyer  oi 
mankind.      It  is  not  a  part  of  man  as  God 

made  him ;  it  is  a  part  of  man  as  he  has  un- 

158 


How  to  Hate  Sin 

made  and  dci^radcd  himself.     It  is  the  marring 
of  the  divine  ima-e,  the  ruin  of  the  glorious 
temple,  the  self-mutilation  and  suicide  of  the 
immortal  soul.      It  is  sin  that  casts  man  down 
into  the  mire.      It  is  sin  that  drags  him  from 
the  fellowship  of  God  into  the  company  of 
beasts.     It  is  sin  that  leads  him  into  the  far 
country  of  famine,  and  leaves  him  among  the 
swine,  and   makes  him  fain  to   fill   his  belly 
with  the  husks  that  the  swine  do  eat.     There- 
fore we  must  hate  sin,  and  fear  it,  and  abhor 
it,  always  and  everywhere,      \\1icn  we  look 
into  our  own   heart    and    find    sin  there,  we 
must  humble  oursehes  before  God  and  repent 
in  sackcloth  and  ashes,     Every  sin  that  whis- 
pers in  our  heart  is  an  echo  of  the  world's  de- 
spair and  misery.      Every  selfish  desire  that 
lies  in  our  soul  is  a  seed  of  that  which  has 
brought  forth  strife,  and  cruelty,  and  murder, 
and  horrible  torture,  and  bloody  war  among  the 
children  of  men.      livery  lustful  thought  that 

defilesourimaginationisan  image  of  that  which 
has  begotten  loathsome  vices  and  crawling 
shames  throughout  the  world.      My  brother- 

159 


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ii 


The  Meaning  of  Manhood  ^ 

men,  God  hates  sin  because  it  ruins  man. 
And  when  we  know  what  that  means,  when 
we  feel  that  same  poison  of  evil  within  us,  we 
must  hate  sin  as  he  does,  and  bow  in  penitence 
before  him,  crying,  "  God,  be  merciful  to  me 
a  sinner." 

2.  We  need  to  learn  Christ's  doctrine  of 
the  meaning  of  manhood  in  order  to  help  us 
to  love  our  fellow-men. 

This  is  a  thing  that  is  easy  to  profess,  but 
hard,  bitterly  hard,  to  do.  The  faults  and 
follies  of  human  nature  arc  apparent.  The 
unlovely  and  co.itcmptible  antl  olTensive quali- 
ties of  many  people  thrust  themselves  sharply 
upon  our  notice  antl  repel  us.  We  are  tempted 
to  shrink  back,  wounded  and  disappointed, 
and  to  relapse  into  a  life  that  is  governed  by 
disgusts.  If  we  dwell  in  the  atmosphere  of 
a  Christless  world,  if  we  read  only  tliose 
newspapers  which  chronicle  the  crimes  and 
meannesses  of  men,  or  those  realistic  novels 
which  tleal  with  the  secret  vices  and  corrup- 
tions of  humanity,  and  fill  our  souls  with  the 

unspoken  conviction   that  virtue  is  an  old- 

i6o 


How   to   Love   Men 


fashioned  dream,  and  that  there  is  no  man 
i^ood,  no  woman  pure,  I  do  not  see  how  we 
can  help  despisin^i;  and  hatin^  mankind. 
Who  shall  deliver  us  from  this  spirit  of 
l)itterness?  Wiio  shall  take  us  by  the  hand 
and  lead  us  out  of  this  heavy,  fetid  air  of  the 
lazar-house  and  the  morgue? 

None  but  Christ.    If  we  will  go  with  him,  he 

will  teaeh  us  not  to  hate  ourfellow- men  for  what 
they  are,  but  to  love  them  for  what  they  may 
become.  lie  will  teach  us  to  look,  not  for  the 
evil  which  is  manifest,  but  for  the  good  which 
is  hidden.  He  will  teach  us  not  to  despair, 
but  to  hope,  even  for  the  most  degraded  of 


mankind.     And 


S( 


),   perchance,   as  we   ke( 


company  with  him,  we  shall  Irarn  the  secret 
of  that  divine  charity  which  fdls  the  heart 
with  peace  and  joy  and  quiet  strength.  We 
shall  learn  to  do  good  unto  all  men  as  we 
have  opportunity,  not  for  the  sake  of  grati- 
tude or  reward,  but  because  they  are  the 
children  of  our  Father  and  the  brethren  of 
our  Saviour.     We  shall  learn  the  meaning  of 

that  blessed  death  on  Calvarv,  and  be  willinir 

l6i 


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The  Meaning  ot  Manliooy 

to  give  ourselves  as  a  sacrifice  for  others, 
knovvin<T  that  he  that  tunieth  a  sinner  from 
the  error  of  his  ways  sliall  save  a  soul  from 
ileath  aiui  cover  a  multitude  of  sins. 

3.  l^'inally,  we  need  to  accept  and  believe 
Christ's  doctrine  of  the  meaning  of  manhoud 
in  order  that  it  may  lead  us  personally  to  God 
and  a  higher  life. 

You  are  intuiitcly  better  and  more  precious 

than   the  dumb  beasts.     You  know  it,  you 

feel  it ;  you  are  conscious  that  you  belong  to 

another  world.     Anil  yet  it  may  be  that  there 

are  times  when  you  forget  it  and  live  as  if 

there  were  no  God,  n(^  soul,  no  future  life. 

Your  ambitions  are  fixed  up(~>n  the  wealth  that 

corrodes,  the  fame  that  fades.    Your  desires 

are  toward  the  pleasures  that  pall  upon  the 

senses.    You  aie  bartering  immortal  treasure 

for   the    things   which   perish    in    the   using. 

You    a.e   ignoring   and    despising   the    high 

meaniiv':  of  vour  manhood.     Who  shall  re- 

mind  you  of  it.  who  shall  bring  you  back  to 

yourself,  who  shall  lift  you  up  to  the  level  of 

your  true  being,  unless  it  be  the  Teacher  who 

162 


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How  to   Live  Upward 


) 


spake  as  never  man  spak'c,  the  Master  wlio 
brought  life  and  immortality  to  light? 

Come,  then,  to  Christ,  who  alone  can  save 
you  from  the  sin  that  defiles  and  destroys 
your  manhood.  Come,  then,  to  Christ,  who 
alone  can  make  you  good  men  and  true,  liv- 
ing in  the  pov/er  of  an  endless  life.  Come, 
then,  to  Christ,  that  you  may  have  fellowship 
with  him  and  realize  all  that  it  means  to  be 
a  man. 


I 


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163 


l/il   I, 


Strength  and  Courage 

By 

Lewis  O.  Brastow,  D.D. 

Professor  nf  Homilctics  and  tlie  I'astural  ('liarj^c,  Nalo  Divinity  School 

"  Bv  strouff  and  of  a  /rood  courage." — Dcul.  xxxi.  0. 

STRENGTH  and  courage  are  inseparable, 
and  the  injunction  to  be  strong  is  nearly 
equivalent  to  the  injunction  to  be  courageous. 
"  Be  strong "  can  only  mean  "  Rally  the 
strength  you  have."  "Be  courageous" 
means  "  Concentrate  your  strength  against 
danger  or  difficulty."  Courage,  then,  is  the 
application  of  manly  force  in  confronting 
obstacles.  Courage  is  strong-heartedness. 
Etymologically  it  suggests  that  the  heart  is 
the  innermost  center,  "  the  rallying-ground," 
of  the  forces  of  moral  manhood.  Of  one  who 
does   not   or  cannot    rally    his   resources   (^f 

strength  we  say  that  he  is  discouraged,  dis- 

164 


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Rational  Faith 


heartened,  has  lost  heart.     We  are  deah'n^cr. 
therefore,  with  a  rational  rather  than  with  an 
animal  quality.      It  is  a  virtue  in  so  far  as  it 
involves  a  rational,  .'^elf-determined  effort  in 
confronting  the  contradictions  of  hfe.      It  is  a 
quality  of  character  rather  than  a  condition  of 
nerve  or  muscle.      It  is  of  this  courage  that  I 
wish  to  speak.      It  is  the  courage  of  inteili- 
gence  and  freedom,  the  courage  of  self-deter- 
mined  moral  purpose,  the  courage  of  moral 
strength,    and    it    has    many    forms.     Their 
ethical  quality  is  conditioned  by  the  influences 
that  produce  them,  or  by  the  principles  that 
enter  into  them  and  the  motive  forces'  that 
dominate  them.     The  courage  inculcated  by 
my  text  would  of  course  take  the  form  of  a 
Hebrew  virtue.     But  I  wish  to  transfer  this 
injunction  to  the  realm  of  Christian  morality 
and  to  speak  of  the  more  specifically  Chris- 
tian forms  of  that  moral  strength  which  in- 
volves moral  courage. 

I.  Such  courage  is  preeminently  the  cou- 
rage of  a  rational  faith.  In  every  struggle, 
physical,  political,  moral,  whatever  it  may  be, 

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Strength  and   Courage 


a  man  needs  good  footing.  It  is  an  athlete's 
first  necessity  to  look  out  for  his  feet.  The 
moral  athlete  who  makes  a  successful  stand 
against  the  difficulties  of  life  must  have  good 
standing-ground.  Faith  gives  us  footing. 
Skepticism  is  a  sapper  and  miner.  It  takes 
the  ground  from  under  our  feet.  A  man 
must  feel  that  he  has  something  under  him, 
something  he  can  trust.  Difficulty  brings  one 
to  a  stand,  throws  him  back  upon  some  re- 
source. Courage  is  the  girding  of  strength 
for  resistance.  It  is  will  rallying  the  dormant 
or  scattered  forces  of  manhood  to  conflict. 
The  rally  must  be  made  from  the  basis  of 
something  to  which  one  is  self-committed  in 
mental  and  moral  confidence.  One  must 
know  that  he  stands  on  something  that  he 
can  trust.  In  any  difficulty  or  danger  the 
mind  must  be  in  a  positive  attitude  of  confi- 
dence. No  man  can  fight  difficulties  in  the 
air.  There  is  nothing  but  moral  imbecility 
in  perpetual  distrust  or  doubt.  It  is  not  re- 
ligion alone,  but  morality,  nor  yet  morality 

also,  but  the  want  of  life  and  the  make  of  the 

166 


riic  Vantage-ground  of  Faith 


soul,  that  demands  faith.     An  over-skeptical 
habit  of  mind  involves  moral  paralysis.     In 
any  difficulty  one  sees  as  never  odiervvise  how 
necessary  it  is   to  believe  in  something,  to 
believe  in  it  positively  and  energetically  and 
even  in  spite  of  one's  self  and  despite  all  com- 
promising appearances.     Faith  is   vantage- 
ground  for  the  battle.     It  is  the  Round  Top, 
the  key-point  of  the  situation  for  the  batde 
of  life.     A  man  may  find  a  certain  standing- 
ground    in     himself.     Well,    God    has    put 
strength  into  manhood,   and  he  gives  men 
ample    opportunity   to   test  it,   and   a   man 
ought  to  be  able  to  believe  in  himself.     To 
distrust  one's  self  in  a  pinch  is  to  invite  defeat. 
It  is  not  safe  to  suspend  one's  self  in  the  uncer- 
tainty of  self-distrust.     One  must  trust  other 
men  also.     No  one  can  stand  alone.     We  are 
obliged  to  believe   in    our  fellow-men.     A 
man  must  also  trust  the  wodd  in  which  he 
lives,  and  above  all  the  God  who  is  over  it 
and  in  it.     In  other  words,  the  courage  of 
all  soundest  moral  strength  centers  in  faith, 
in  a  higher  power  above  us,  and  in  the  moral 

167 


i.  I 


Strength  and  Courage 


i. 


II 


W! 


1^ 


order  of  the  world.  A  surrender  of  faith  in 
God  and  Providence  would  leave  the  world 
in  the  imbecility  of  despair.  And  I  question 
if  there  be  not  in  all  rational  faith  in  personal 
manhood,  in  fellow-men,  and  in  the  world  in 
which  we  live  a  certain  latent  or  implicit  con- 
fidence in  a  higher  power  and  in  a  moral 
order  that  has  a  rational  and  moral  beginning 
and  goal.  Certain  it  is  that  when  men  begin 
to  think  ethically  and  rationally  they  are 
obliged  to  postulate  the  reality  of  God  as  a 
basis  of  confidence  in  the  ultimate  victory  of 
life.  This  courage  of  faith  in  God  is  the  old 
Hebrew  courage.  The  courage  of  self-confi- 
derce  is  no  Hebrew  virtue.  That  would 
be  disloyalty  to  God.  To  be  strong  is  to 
be  strong  in  God.  It  is  the  God  of  the 
fathers,  the  covenant  God,  that  is  committed 
to  them  and  will  see  them  through.  And 
the  one  great  central  virtue  of  Hebrew  ethics 
was  faith  in  a  covenant  God. 

The  same  stress  is  put  upon  faith  in  the 
ethics  of  the  Christian  life.     And  this  is  no 

insignificant  thing  as  related  to  the  moral  con- 

168 


»  \ 


(.. 


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Faith  in  Redemption 

flict  of  life.     Faith  is  a  fundamental  virtue  in 
the  battle  of  life,  because  it  is  only  unto  faith 
that  we  shall  add  a  manly  courage.     This 
conception  of  a  Father  God  who  would  make 
us  his  own  possession,  would  hold  us  in  fel- 
lowship with  himself,  w^ould  throw  about  us 
the  shield  of  his  loving  protection  and  carry 
us  victoriously  through  into  the  crown-heights 
of  our  redemption,   is  ever  struggling  into 
view  in  all  prophetic  Scriptures,  and  it  breaks 
forth  in  all  its  completeness  and  magnificence 
in  the  revelation  of  God  as  the  Father  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.     It  is  the  God  of  redemp- 
tion that  is  committed  to  us  and  will  see  us 
through  the  struggle  of  life.     The  greater 
includes  the  lesser  good.     "  H  >  that  spared 
not  his  own  Son,  but  delivered  him  up  for  us 
all,  how  shall  he  not  also  with  him  freely 
give  us  all   things?"  is   the  word   of  lofty 
cheer.     Christian  courage,  then,  is  the  cour- 
age of  faith  in  the  calling  of  redemption  as 
the  divine  calling  of  life. 

2.   It  is  the  courage  of  rational  moral  con- 
viction.    Conviction  involves  the  action   of 

169 


III 


1;, 


mSi 


Strength  and  Courage 


■'§' 


\  ; 


\- : 


truth  in  the  conscience.  It  gets  lodged  there 
in  the  way  of  moral  conquest.  Moral  truth 
is  well  intrenched  onlv  when  it  is  intrenched 
in  an  intelligent  conscience,  and  the  only 
valiant  soldier  in  its  army  is  the  man  who 
carries  it  about  with  him  in  his  moral  con- 
viction as  a  man  carries  his  life  and  force  in 
the  blood  of  his  heart.  The  man  who  is 
morally  mastered  by  the  truth  is  himself 
masterful.  To  be  thus  morally  vanquished 
in  the  domain  of  truth  and  held  in  allegiance 
to  it  is  to  be  a  conqueror  in  its  service.  It  is 
a  dangerous  thing  for  the  evil  of  this  world 
when  the  truth  gets  intrenched  in  the  moral 
sense.  It  is  not  enough  that  it  carry  a  man's 
intelligence.  Moral  realities  do  not  get  very 
deep  root  in  the  soil  of  the  mind  alone. 
Convince  and  persuade  a  man,  and  he  may 
not  remain  convinced  or  persuaded.  The 
truth  must  get  below  the  mind  and  below 
emotion,  that  only  transiently  dominates  th? 
will.  But  it  has  won  a  great  victory  when  it 
gets  hold  of  the  conscience  and  wins  men  to 
its  intelligent  service.     It  makes  valiant  men 


170 


The  Vitality  of  Moral  Conviction 

of  them.  When  a  man  invests  with  moral 
sacredness  what  he  holds  for  truth  he  will 
maintain  it  against  all  comers  and  will  advance 
with  it  in  the  face  of  all  opposition.  Men  do 
not  sacrifice  much  for  nor  stand  by  what  they 
hold  indifferently.  They  stand  for  the  truth 
only  when  it  takes  vital  hold  of  them.  It  is 
a  respectable  thing  to  think  correctly,  and 
indeed  it  is  a  safe  thing  to  hold  correct  the- 
ories, for  they  are  likely  to  work  themselves 
out  in  practical  life.  But  the  quality  of  cor- 
rectness is  not  enough.  Living  things  hold 
by  the  root,  and  they  need  good  soil.  Ra- 
tional moral  soil  is  the  only  soil  that  is  fit  for 
the  truth  one  holds  with  tenacity  and  defends 
with  courage.  He  who  turns  his  back  upon 
what  he  professes  to  believe  and  honor,  and 
plays  the  coward,  demonstrates  that  it  has 
taken  but  Httle  hold  of  the  vital  part  of  him. 
We  in  this  easy-going  age  demonstrate  that 
we  have  lest  all  genuine  sympathy  with  the 
men  of  better  days, — days  of  martyr  spirits, 
days  of  supremest  moral  grandeur, — have 
lost  capacity  for  courageous  and  heroic  moral 

m 


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Strength  and  Courage 


witnessing,  in  so  far  as  we  permit  the  most 
vital  and  commanding  truths  and  realities  of 
human  life  to  become  open  questions  and 
play  fast  and  loose  in  our  allegiance  to  them. 
The  passive  virtue  of  humility  is  indeed  a 
Christian  virtue,  but  it  is  a  humility  that 
should  be  matched  by  the  most  heroic  and 
aggressive  boldness.  We  hear  much  in  the 
New  Testament  about  boldness.  That  was  a 
brave  church,  that  apostolic  church.  This 
boldness  took  the  form  of  free  and  open 
utterance  and  of  action  corresponding.  It 
was  the  boldness  that  says  it  all  out  freely, 
fully,  uncompromisingly,  without  fear  or 
favor,  whether  men  will  hear  or  forbear,  and 
whatever  the  issue,  as  from  God's  inspiration. 
To  say  what  was  in  chem  and  to  act  from  the 
inner  stress  of  conviction  was  simply  to  obey 
God.  They  did  not  stop  to  balance  dangers 
against  duties.  They  spoke  and  acted  and 
took  the  consequences,  and  they  won  a  vic- 
tory unmatched  in  human  history.  It  was 
not  temporizing,  it  was  not  political  trimming, 
it  was  not  partizan  cowardice,  that  founded 


'..  I 


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mx 


■•• 


Moral  Force  Rules  tlie  World 

Christianity.     Nor  is  it  that  sort   of  moral 
imbecility  that  shall  perpetuate  it.     Christian 
men  will  never  be  influential,  they  will  never 
be     respectable,    without     moral    strength. 
Strength  is  what  this  world  is  looking  for 
and  what  it  is  sure  to  respect.     It  is  moral 
strength  that  is  bound  to  rule  this  world,  and 
it  is  what  the  world  needs   to-day.     There 
is  a  loud  call  to-day  for  the  pluck  of  old- 
fashioned  manly  men.     Before  the  political 
Pontius  Pilates  of  our  age   we  need  living 
witnesses  of  Him  who,  in  the  presence  of  their 
great  prototype,  witnessed  his  good  confes- 
sion :  "  To  this  end  was  I  born,  and  for  this 
cause  came  I  into  the  world,  that  I  might 
bear  witne  i  to  the  truth."     The  world  will 
never  be  won  to  righteousness  by  surrender- 
ing at  discretion  to  its  dominant  spirit.     The 
moral  conqueror  of  this  world  should  not  be 
sacrificed  to  it  by  those  who  undertake  to  rep- 
resent him.     Christ  does  not  know  the  man, 
and  will  repudiate  him,  who   sacrifices  him 
and  his  cause  to  his  old  enemy.     Above  the 
iron  doors  of  an  "  ample  house  "  spoken  of  in 

173 


li: 


Strength  and  Courage 

Spenser's  "  Faerie  Qiiecne  "  stand  three  in- 
scriptions. Over  the  first  the  words  "  Be 
bold."  Over  the  second,  "  much  fayrer  than 
the  former,  and  richlier,"  was  "  Hkcwisc  writ, 
'  Be  bold,  be  bold,  and  everywhere  be  bold.'  " 
And  on  the  third,  "  Be  not  too  bold."  The 
iron  doorways  these  of  a  mysterious  and 
treacherous  life,  Loni^fellow  in  his  "  Mori- 
turi  Salutamus"  has  wrought  these  inscrip- 
tions and  left  them  as  a  fit  battle- call  to  the 
young  men  of  this  congregation  and  of  the 
nation : 

"  Write  on  your  doors  the  saying  wise  and  old, 
*  Be  bold,  be  bold,  and  everywhere  be  bold ; 
But  not  too  bold.'     Yet  better  the  excess 
Than  the  defect ;  better  the  more  than  less ; 
Better  like  Hector  on  the  field  to  die, 
Than  like  a  perfumed  Paris  turn  and  fly." 

Not  too  bold  ;  not  shallow  audacity ;  the 
sober  courage  of  strong  moral  conviction — 
this  is  Christian  courage,  and  this  is  what  the 
world  needs  to-day.  What  a  man  holds  to 
be  true  and  right  let  him  hold  firmly  and 
courageously ;  let  him  be  willing  to  fight  for 
it.     We  want  no  half-hearted,  half-souled,  or 

174 


Devotion  is  Moral  Concenlration 


double-minded  religion.  Away  with  a  lack- 
adaisical piety!  Religion  must  be  manly. 
If  it  tolerate  moral  imbecility  it  will  not  win 
respect.  The  man  whose  religion  is  strapped 
up  by  moral  conviction  will  add  to  it  the  vir- 
tue of  a  manly  courage. 

3.   A    rational   devotion   also   lies  at   the 
foundation  of  strong  and  courageous  charac- 
ter.    Devotion  implies  an  object  to  be  at- 
tained,   upon    which    one    concentrates    his 
energies.     There  is  a  goal  to  be  reached.     It 
lies  beyond  all  intervening  obstacle,  difficulty, 
or  danger,  and  to  reach  it  one  concentrates 
effort  upon  it.     Any  sort  of  devotion,  even 
the  commonest,  involves  a  rallying  of  one's 
personal  forces  about  a  central  and  command- 
ing purpose  to  reach  the  desired  object  at  all 
hazard  and  despite  all  difficulty.     And  here 
is  the  rallying-ground  of  courage.     In  fact, 
what  is  courage  but  devotion  to  a  desired 
object  in  the  face  of  all  obstacles  ?     The  man 
in  ordinary  secular  life  who  makes  all  strue- 
gle  for  the  attainment  of  his  object  conditional 
upon  the  personal  ease  or  comfort  with  which 

175 


AiwyljaMjUMMMAiMMfafc 


r 


Strength  and  Courage 

he  can  do  it,  or  who  has  no  object  at  all  that 
he  is  willing  to  put  the  other  side  of  whatever 
diOiculties  may  arise,  and  has  no  dominant 
purpose  with  respect  to  any  supreme  object 
whatever,  is  a  moral  imhecile;  he  is  a  man 
without  moral  life  and  character.  A  man 
may  be  thrown  back  and  baffled  and  confused 
by  some  sudden  stroke  of  calamity,  but  if  he 
be  a  man  his  manhood  will  assert  itself  and 
he  will  clear  away  the  barriers  and  start 
again.  Imbecility  in  the  presence  of  difficulty 
is  moral  cowardice.  Think  of  a  business  or 
professional  man  or  a  student  making  the 
purpose  of  his  life  conditional  upon  getting 
on  without  loss,  or  upon  having  an  easy  time 
of  it!  He  who  puts  his  ain  this  side  of 
all  difficulty  and  surrenders  when  difficulty 
comes  will  not  reach  very  far  or  very  high  in 
this  world's  afTairs, 

Now  all  concentrated  and  persistent  ef- 
fort in  the  work  of  life  must  rally  about 
this  central  purpose,  and  this  purpose  will 
successfully  meet  all  difficulty  that  lies  scat- 
tered along  the  entire  life-path.     Such  a  Hfe 

176 


' 


BI1 


The  Personal  Factor 


must  be  a  strong  and   courageous  life.     It 
is   the   life  of  one  who  puts  the   object  of 
his  striving   far  over  and   beyond   the  far- 
thest mountain-peak  of  earthly  difficulty  and 
who  has  an  inclusive  and  commanding  pur- 
pose to  go  over,  mastering  every  barrier  till 
he    compass    the    object    of   his    life.     This 
mighty  purpose  to  reach  the  goal  of  life  is  a 
species  of  devotion.     When  the  purpose  is  of 
supreme  ethical  importance  it  is  religious  de- 
votion.    But    Christian    devotiun    involves 
another  factor,   which  in  reality  is  its  chief 
characteristic.     It  is  the  personal  factor.     It 
is  the  devotion  of  personal  love  and  loyalty 
to  Jesus  Christ.     The  strength  and  courage 
of  Christian  devotion  are  more  than  a  conse- 
crated purpose  to  realize  the  ethical  ends  of 
the  Christian  life.     It  is  a  purpose  that  cen- 
ters in  personal  love  and  allegiance  to  Him 
who  is  himself  the  source  and  the  inspiration 
and  the  pattern  and  the  end  of  all  Christian 
life.     He  only  can  determine  the  objects  for 
which  his  disciple  may  live.     In  him  alone 
is  the  spring  and  the  motive  and  t 


1 


gui 


177 


Strength  and  Courage 


h'l 


we  need  in  reaching  the  object  he  sets  before 
us,  and  the  strength  of  devotion  will  depend 
on  the  personal  relation.  The  aim  of  life  can 
never  be  reached  without  love  for  personal 
beings.  We  know  this  in  the  experiences  of 
common  life.  The  moral  life  of  the  world  is 
dependent  on  personal  relations.  Some 
form  of  piety  is  necessary  to  morality.  It  is 
preeminently  true  in  the  higher  domain  of 
religion.  The  constraint  of  Christ's  love  is 
the  heart  of  Christian  devotion.  And  what 
is  Christian  courage  but  the  soul's  trusting 
and  loving  self-preservation  for  the  tasks  of 
life,  in  face  of  all  difTiculty  and  obstacle  and 
danger,  out  of  a  sentiment  and  principle  of 
gratitude  to  Ilim  who  is  of  right  the  Lord  and 
Master  of  life  ? 

4.  To  a  rational  faith,  conviction,  and  de- 
votion there  should  be  added  a  rational  hope 
as  the  crown  and  completion  of  a  strong  and 
courageous  Christian  life.  What  we  strive 
for  must  be  attainable  in  some  measure  and 
form  at  least,  or  strength  and  courage  fail. 

If  hope  should  fail  the  battle  of  life  would 

178 


, 


The  Genesis  of  Hope 

end.    All  over  the  field  men  would  drop  and 
rise  no  more.    The  powers  of  manhood  would 
fail,  and  the  end  would  be  a  universal  wail 
of  despair.     Nothin^r  would  remain  but  the 
abyss  of  ruin  to  demonstrate  that  life  is  poi- 
soned fatally  at  the  loot,  that  the  heart  of 
the  universe  is  evil,  and  that  existence  is  a 
j^ngantic  failure  and  mockery.     Some  frag- 
ment at   least  of  the   good  of  life  we  must 
reasonably  hope  to  win.    God  put  desire  and 
strength  and  confidence  into  the  soul  of  man 
for  the  battle  of  life.     Desire  of  the  good,  or 
what  seems  the  good,  consciousness  of  j)er- 
sonal  .strength  and  confidence  in  the  universe 
without  or  in  what  lies  under  it,  one  or  both 
—these  are  the  elements  of  his  equipment  for 
the  conflict,  and  out  of  these  hope  is  born. 
You   want  the  good   as  your  portion;   you 
believe  in  the  force  God  has  lodged  in  you 
with  reference  to  its  attainment;  you  believe 
in  the  world  in  which  you  live  ;  or,  better  still, 
as  crowning  and  completing  all  and  as  hold- 
ing the  key  of  all  mystery,  you  believe  in  the 
God  that  made  the  world  and  set  your  Hfe  in 

179 


Strength  and  Courage 


"In 


(I 


its  environment.  Therefore  you  hope,  and 
therefore  you  have  courage  for  the  battle  of 
life.  And  there  is  always  an  abundant  stock 
of  hope  on  hand  for  the  world  at  large.  All 
over  the  world  we  see  its  conquests.  The 
heart  of  man  in  a  struggling  life  is  demon- 
stration that  good  lies  behind  and  before.  It 
is  God's  witness.  That  it  is  possible  amid 
Hfe's  mountain  barriers  is  intimation  that  good 
is  the  law  of  Hfe  and  good  its  final  goal.  It 
is  the  outreach  of  man's  prophetic  soul  after 
the  good  that  is  obscured  by  the  shadows  of 
life  and  barred  by  its  contradictions.  It  is 
mightier  than  all  obstacles,  brightening  above 
the  glare  of  consuming  flames,  buoying  amid 
devouring  floods,  singing  amid  the  groanings 
of  the  flesh,  exalting  itself  in  the  faintings  of 
sorrow,  strong  in  infirmity,  triumphing  in 
defeat,  and  living  in  the  agonies  of  death. 
What  a  world  it  is,  and  what  a  life  is  this 
human  life !  If  this  small  fragment  of  it  were 
the  end,  it  sometimes  seems  as  if  no  power 
of  last  defeat  could  crush  the  energies  of 
this  strange  struggling  creature,  man.     It  is 

1 80 


The  Song  of  Hope 

clear  enough  that  the  world  was  built  for 
conquest  by  him,  even  material  conquest. 
But  it  was  built,  too,  for  moral  conquest,  and 
what  we  need  is  hope  for  moral  conquest. 
To  conquer  the  world  is  not  to  conquer  the 
untrained  forces  of  the  soul,  nor  to  conquer 
sin,  nor  to  conquer  death.  We  are  conquer- 
ing the  material  world  in  this  nation  of  ours, 
but  materialism  and  animalism  and  sordid 
selfishness  are  conquering  us.  But  not  all 
men  are  conquering  in  the  battle  of  material 
life.  The  notes  of  discontent  all  about  us  are 
bodeful.  They  may  portend  the  desolation 
of  a  coming  tempest.  Many  give  up  the 
struggle.  What  shall  we  do  with  the  baffled  ? 
After  all,  is  it  not  the  larger  number  with 
whom  the  world  goes  ill?  And  there  is  a 
little  joyous  section  of  this  struggling  world, 
weighted  with  the  common  sorrows,  but  joy- 
ful still,  that  for  almost  nineteen  centuries  has 
been  singing  the  song  of  hope  to  keep  the 
weary  brotherhood  and  sisterhood  in  heart. 
The  literature  of  hope  is  very  rich.  And  it 
suggests   how   much  the  song   of   hope   is 


Strength  and  Courage 


^1'  R 


needed  in  the  bafflings  of  life.  How  many  a 
burdened  heart  and  bafiled  hfe  has  sung  out 
the  hope  that  has  been  kindled  at  the  altar- 
flame  of  a  divine  redemption  unto  the  rally- 
ing of  the  weary  and  burdened  and  despairing 
brotherhood  of  the  unblessed!  The  hope 
that  is  earth-born  is  not  enough.  The  true 
goal  of  life  is  **  where  beyond  these  voices 
there  is  peace."  We  need  a  divine  hand  to 
tear  away  the  darkness  of  life  and  disclose 
the  crown  that  glitters  for  the  conqueror 
amid  the  glories  of  the  perfected  kingdom  of 
redemption.  The  song  of  the  redemption 
hope  is  a  new  song  for  earth.  It  is  this  hope 
of  eternal  redemption  that  holds  the  soul  to 
its  heavenly  inheritance.  Courage  for  the 
moral  conflict  of  life,  courage  to  meet  the 
power  of  sin  and  of  the  last  great  enemy,  is 
the  courage  of  Christian  hope.  The  voice  of 
the  resurrection  hope  has  been  lifted  in  the 
darkness  and  suffering  of  earth.  What  Jesus 
Christ  has  done  for  the  strength  and  courage 
of  the  world  by  his  revelation  of  the  hope  of 

eternal  life  and  its   rewards  for  the  weary 

182 


The  Song  of  the  Resurrection  Hope 

of  earth  no  human  intelligence  can  well  es- 
timate. 

Share,  young  men,  with  this  conqueror  of 
sin  and  death  his  spoils  of  conquest,  and  share 
his  assurances  of  the  ultimate  completion  of 
that  universal  kingdom  which  is  "  righteous- 
ness, peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost." 


!  ' 


183 


The  Peril  of  Protracted  Temptation 

By 

Teunis  S.  Hamlin,  D.D. 

Pastor  of  the  Church  of  the  Covenant,  Washington,  D.  C. 

^'Joab  had  turned  after  Adouijah,  though  he  turned  not 
after  Absalom.''' — /  Kings  ii.  28. 

JOAB  was  David's  nephew,  the  second  of 
the  three  sons  of  his  sister  Zeruiah.  His 
youngest  brother,  Asahel,  famous  for  his 
swiftness  in  running,  was  killed  by  Abner  at 
the  battle  of  Gibeon.  The  oldest,  Abishai, 
a  brave,  fierce,  revenjref'"  ui^n,  was  always 
at  his  uncle's  side  ar:-  rciiUcicd  him  invalu- 
able service.  But  Joab,  greatest  in  military 
prowess,  as  well  as  most  statesmanlike,  reached 
the  place  of  power  next  the  king  himself. 
He  treacherously  killed  Abner,  partly  in  re- 
venge for  his  brother's  death  and  partly  lest 

he  should  hold  under  David  the  same  post  of 

184 


(I 


Q 


vl 


t:\ 


Joab's  Greatness 

commander-in-chief  that  he  had  held  under 
Saul.  The  king  was  grieved  and  outraged  at 
this  act,  and  compelled  Joab  to  attend  Abner's 
funeral  in  sackcloth  and  with  rent  robe.  Still, 
induced,  no  doubt,  by  his  preeminent  fitness, 
he  gave  him  Abner's  place.  Joab  had  fairly 
won  this  by  accepting  the  challenge  of  David 
to  scale  the  rock  of  Jebus  and  thus  capture 
the  fortress  that  was  to  become  the  national 
capital.  So  far  as  defense  and  conquest  arc 
concerned  he  may  be  called  the  founder  of 
the  kingdom.  He  made  his  headquarters  in 
Jerusalem  and  had  a  magnificent  country 
residence  near  by.  He  enjoyed  almost  royal 
titles  and  honors.  He  was  devotedly  loyal 
to  his  uncle  and  master.  At  the  siege  of 
Rabbah  he  took  the  lower  town  on  the  river, 
and  then  sent  for  the  king  to  come  and  cap- 
ture the  fortress,  lest  the  glory  of  the  victory 
should  attach  to  the  name  of  Joab.  He 
boldly  disobeyed  orders  in  killing  the  king's 
rebel  son,  Absalom,  and  with  equal  boldness 
reproved  the  king  for  his  frantic  grief,  re- 
called him  to  his  duty  to  his  subjects,  and 

185 


i      ( 


:u. 


Tlie  Teril  of  Protracted  Temptation 

constrained  him  to  show  himself  in  public. 
This  was  the  more  unmistakably  an  act  of 
loyalty  since  he  had  brought  about  a  recon- 
ciliation between  father  and  son  after  the 
latter  had  murdered  Amnon  in  revenge  for 
the  outrage  upon  his  sister  Tamar.  He 
wickedly  acquiesced  in  David's  murderous 
scheme  against  Uriah,  but  openly  opposed 
him  in  numbering  the  people.  Superseded 
by  Amasa,  he  treacherously  killed  his  rival 
and  recovered  his  old  place.  He  died  at  last 
by  violence,  David  on  his  death-bed  having 
charged  Solomon  to  avenge  Abnerand  Amasa. 

Such  are  the  chief  incidents  of  an  active, 
stormy  life,  quite  consonant  with  the  general 
tenor  of  the  times.  We  are  not  now  con- 
cerned with  it  as  biography,  though  it  is  very 
fascinating  biography ;  nor  as  a  miniature  of 
the  life  of  the  day,  though  in  that  aspect  it 
is  most  instructive.  But  it  has  a  moral  and 
spiritual  lesson  of  great  value. 

Joab  was  loyal  to  his  sovereign  through  a 
long  life.  He  was  loyal  against  many  temp- 
tations to  be  otherwise.     From  the  time  of 

1 86 


Joab's  Relations  to  David 

Abner's  death  David  feared  his  impetuous, 
passionate  nephews  ;  indeed,  he  said  at  the  fu- 
neral, "  I  am  this  day  weak,  though  anointed 
king;  and  these  men  the  sons  of  Zeruiah 
are  too  hard  for  me."*  Joab  could  not  have 
been  uninfluenced  by  this  fact;  it  is  diffi- 
cult for  an  inferior  to  retain  respect  for  a  su- 
perior who  he  knows  fears  him,  or  whom  he 
regards  as  in  any  essential  particular  a  weaker 
man  than  himself.  Moreover,  he  was  in  the 
secret  of  his  master's  great  crime — guilty,  in- 
deed, as  an  accessory,  but  not  so  guilty  as  the 
principal,  and  so  with  another  consciousness 
of  superiority  which  worked  against  his  devo- 
tion. And  monarchy  was  new  in  Israel.  The 
king  reigned  more  by  virtue  of  his  personal 
power  than  of  an  established  habit  of  obedi- 
ence on  the  part  of  his  people.  There  were 
the  incessant  intrigues  against  the  throne 
that  to  this  day  mark  all  Oriental  govern- 
ments. A  score  of  times  Joab  must  have 
been  solicited  to  join  the  fortunes  of  this  or 
that  pretender,  to  accept  anything  that  he 

*  2  Sam.  iii.  39. 
«87 


J   .1 


'i 


I'lic  Peril  of  Protracted  Temptation 

chose  to  ask,  to  escape  the  growing  ill  will  of 
his  sovereign  and  avenge  the  repeated  slights 
that  he  had  suffered.  Against  all  solicita- 
tions he  had  stood  firm  year  after  year.  But 
now  David  is  near  his  end — in  fact,  is  almost 
comatose.  It  is  known  that  he  has  promised 
the  succession  to  a  younger  son,  Solomon. 
The  legitimist  party,  who  favor  the  oldest  son, 
Adonijah,  determine  not  to  wait  for  the  king's 
death,  but  to  at  once  seize  the  throne.  It  is 
particularly  odious  treason  against  a  dying 
and  presumably  helpless  man.  And  it  is  es- 
pecially pitiful  to  find  the  aged  Joab  engaged 
in  it.  A  few  years  before  he  had  resisted  the 
pretensions  of'  the  fascinating  and  popular 
Absalom,  and  at  the  risk  of  his  own  life  had 
put  him  to  death,  as  he  deserved.  But 
meanwhile  his  moral  fiber  has  deteriorated. 
He  lacks  the  robust  virtue  of  other  years. 
Even  the  tho  ight  of  his  dying  sovereign  and 
of  the  great  things  that  they  had  passed 
through  toge  ler  cannot  hold  him  to  loyalty. 
So  he  "  turns  after  Adonijah,  though  he  had 

not  turned  aicer  Absalom." 

i88 


Age  Does  Not  Insure  Safety 

The  theory  is  commonly  held  that  old 
men  and  women  are  safe  from  temptation. 
We  talk  about  character  being  formed,  set- 
tled, fixed.  We  speak  of  unassailable  virtue. 
We  devote  all  our  skill  and  energy  to  safe- 
guarding the  young,  which  is  right ;  but  we 
neglect  to  throw  any  protection  about  the 
middle-aged,  which  is  wrong.  We  treat  our- 
selves in  the  same  fashion,  assuming  that, 
say,  after  middle  life  we  are  in  small  peril  of 
going  astrpy.  We  accordingly  subject  our 
virtues  to  strains  to  which  we  would  not 
h'we  thought  of  exposing  them  twenty  or 
thirty  years  earlier.  Hence  every  community 
is  frequently  shocked  by  acts  of  amazing  folly, 
vice,  and  even  crime  on  the  part  of  those 
who  were  supposed  to  have  outlived  all 
temptation  in  such  directions.  Hence  we 
have  the  proverb,  "  Count  no  man  happy 
until  he  is  dead  " — until  he  has  passed  be- 
yond the  possibility  of  throwing  away  by 
one  stupendous  blunder  or  sin  the  accumu- 
lated good  reputation  of  three-  or  fourscore 

years.     We  say  of  such  a  man,  "  He  was  old 

189 


The  Peril  of  Protractetl  Temptation 


m\ 


!< 


enough  to  know  better,"  which  is  in  efTect  a 
confession  that  knowing  better  by  no  means 
carries  with  it  the  strength  to  do  better. 
Hamlet  regards  it  as  the  gravamen  of  his 
mother's  offense  in  her  criminal  marriage 
with  the  king  that  she  had  passed  the  r/e 
when  she  could  plead  the  excuse  of  impetu- 
ous passions.  History,  literature,  our  own 
observation  unite  to  demonstrate  that,  while 
youth  is  imperiled  by  temptation,  age  is  not 
safe,  and  to  give  some  countenance  to  the 
rather  harsh  maxim  that  "  there  is  no  fool 
like  an  old  fool." 

The  fact  is  that  the  danger  that  lurks  in 
temptation  is  not  a  matter  of  age  at  all.  Per- 
sonality is  of  course  the  main  thing.  We  are 
tempted  according  to  our  heredity,  our  ap- 
petites, our  constitutional  or  acquired  weak- 
nesses, our  individual  proclivities  toward  this 
or  that  sin.  These  vary  at  different  periods 
of  life.  Hence  some  temptations  are  strong- 
est in  youth,  others  in  maturity,  others  in  old 
age.     There  is  a  sense,  too,  in  which  youth  is 

weaker  to  resist  than  maturity  or  age.     The 

190 


Physical  Perils 

moral   fiber,    like   the   physical,  is   not   yet 
toughened.     I'liysicians  tell  us  that  the  period 
of  greatest  peril  to  life,  after  infancy,  is  from 
eighteen  to  twenty-five  or  thirty  years.      All 
vital    organs  have   developed  rapidly;    one 
looks  most  robust;  he  will  quickly  take  high 
physical  training  in  any  direction,  and,  if  he 
endures  it,  gain  marvelous  power.     But  at 
the  same  time  he  lacks  high  efficiency  to  re- 
sist or  throw  off  disease.     Add  to  this  such 
■mprudencc  as  must  accompany  the  unthink- 
mg  conviction  that  nothing  can  harm  him  ~ 
that  he  may  eat  and  sleep  an<l  exercise' as 
"■regularly   as    he    pleases,-and    it    is    not 
marvelous  that  so  many  young  men  die  in 
their  years  of  greatest  promise  and  apparently 
highest    vitality.      They   are   carried   off   by 
d.sea.se  before  they  luve  learned  their  own 

powers  of  endurance,  or,  knowingthem,  gained 
the  moral  courage  to  live  well  within  them. 
It  is  not  an  irrational  solicitude,  therefore 
that  parents  feel  for  the  health  of  their  sons 
and  daughters  even  after  they  are  old  enou<rh 
to  be  supposed  to  wisely  care  for  themselves. 

191 


u 


i 


The  Peril  of  Protracted  Temptation 

Here  the  moral  and  spiritual  nature  affords 
a  close  analogy  to  the  physical.  Time 
brings  to  the  soul  certain  qualifications  to 
resist  temptation  that  nothing  else  can  bring, 
such  as  an  intelligent  fear  of  doing  wrong 
and  an  accurate  conception  of  its  pernicious 
consequences.  Especially  it  brings  the  /ladii 
of  resisting  the  wrong  and  doing  the  right. 
And  it  is  to  that  settled  habit  more  than  to 
anything  else,  except  the  immediate  grace  of 
God,  that  we  all  owe  our  moral  safety. 

But  if  the  young  are  thus  specially  exposed 
at  some  points,  they  are  also  specially  safe- 
guarded at  others.  Their  generous  open- 
heartedness  saves  them  from  meanness,  which 
is  the  essence  of  so  many  of  the  sins  of  later 
life.  They  largely  lack  that  calculating  self- 
ishness which,  in  the  fierce  struggle  for  suc- 
cess in  the  world,  lures  to  dishonesty  and  to 
all  the  schemes  of  cold-blooded,  relentless 
ambition.  In  fact,  they  stand  against  temp- 
tation far  more  nobly  than  could  be  fairly 
expected.  Some — indeed,  too  many — go 
down  and  make  early  shipwreck,  or  lay  the 

19a 


Joub  Finally  Yields 

foundations  of  certain  disaster  in  later  years ; 
but  the  vast  majority  stand  and  put  to  shame 
the  fears  of  those  who  believe  too  little  both 
in  the  essential  integrity  of  human  nature  and 
in  the  environing  grace  of  God. 

But,  whatever  the  age,  the  real  peril  of 
temptation  lies  in  its  being  long  continued. 
It   was  not  because  Joab  was  old   that  he 
turned   after   Adonijah,   while   a   few   years 
before  he  had  not  turned  after  Absalom,  but 
because  at  that  time  the  temptation  of  dis- 
loyalty  to  his  king  had  not  been  long  enough 
at  work  to  undermine  his  powers  of  resistance. 
When,  however,  Adonijah  raised  the  standard 
of  revolt  and  invited  Joab  to  join  him,  the 
soliciting  voice  had  spoken  so  many  times, 
and  each  time  more  alluringly,  that  his  abil- 
ity to  say  no  had  been  exhausted.     He  threw 
away  reputation,  honor,  life  itself,  not  because 
he  was  a  weak  old  man, — for  he  was  not  that, — 
but  because  he  had  exposed  himself  through 
a  series  of  years  to  the  temptation  that  he 
had  always  hitherto  been  able  to  master,  but 
that  now  at  last  mastered  him. 

193 


SB 


I 


The  Peril  of  Protracted  Temptation 

Judas  seems  to  have  been  a  younger  man 
than  Joab — probably  had  not  reached  middle 
life ;  but  he  was  a  weaker  man  morally. 
What  David's  general  had  endured  for  forty 
years,  that  Christ's  disciple  was  not  able  to 
endure  for  three.  From  the  time  that  he 
became  treasurer  of  the  little  band  we  can  see 
avarice  soliciting  him.  The  Lord  seems  to 
have  carefully  guarded  him ;  for  instance,  in 
letting  Peter,  not  Judas,  pay  the  Temple  tax. 
But  his  power  of  resistance  was  steadily  de- 
creasing as  the  coin  clinked  in  the  bag  at  his 
girdle.  He  had  handled  only  small  sums, 
and  when  thirty  pieces  of  silver  dazzled  his 
fancy  Jie  must  have  them,  though  it  meant  the 
betrayal  of  his  best  friend.  It  was  just  an- 
other case  of  Joab  **  turning  after  Adonijah, 
though  he  had  not  turned  after  Absalom." 

The  fact  is,  dear  friends, — and  herein  lies 
the  reason  for  the  young  standing  so  grandly 
as  they  do, — that  few  are  swept  away  by  the 
first  attack  of  temptation.  The  fortress  of 
our  instinctive  love  of  the  right  and  our  care- 
ful early  training  is  not  usually  carried  by 

194 


i 


II 


T 


II 


Steel  Gives  Way  at  Last 

assault,  but  by  sapping  and  mining.  Grant 
conquered  Lee  by  steady  and  persistent 
pounding,  in  the  spirit  of  the  famous  des- 
patch, "  I  propose  to  fight  it  out  on  this  line 
if  it  takes  all  summer."  The  bravest  army 
ever  marshaled — and  none  braver  than  Lee's 
ever  took  the  field — cannot  forever  stand 
such  dogged  attacks  from  an  enemy  with 
resources  sufficient  to  keep  them  up  indefi- 
nitely. Nor  can  the  strongest  human  nature 
stand  such  attacks  of  temptation.  No  mat- 
ter how  confident  you  and  I  are  of  the  qual- 
ity of  our  moral  fiber,  we  will  act  unwisely 
in  subjecting  it  to  too  prolonged  a  strain. 

Indeed,  this  law  holds  throughout  all 
nature.  We  speak,  for  instance,  of  the  life 
of  a  steel  rail,  meaning  the  period  during 
which  it  can  do  its  work.  The  incessant 
hammering  on  it  of  locomotive  and  car  wheels 
finally  changes  the  relation  of  its  molecules 
until  their  coherence  is  so  weakened  that 
the  strength  of  the  metal  is  gone.  Suddenly 
there  is  an  unaccountable  railway  accident. 
It  means  only  that  rail  or  bridge  or  locomo- 

195 


i 


I 


The  Peril  of  Protracted  Temptation 

tive  had  been  strained,  not  too  hard,  but  too 

long.     They  stood  through  Absalom's  day, 

but  could  not  stand  through  Adonijah's. 

There  is  in  the  Moyamensing  prison  an  old 

man  who  had  worked  for  forty-three  years  in 

the  mint  at  Philadelphia.     He  had  risen  from 

the  humblest  place  to  be  chief  weigher — from 

being  watched  to  watching  others.     He  was 

esteemed  incorruptible  and  implicitly  trusted. 

He  was  not  extravagant  and  had  no  vices. 

But  suddenly  it  was  found  that  he  was    teal- 

ing  gold  bullion.    He  was  not  selling  it — was 

practically  deriving  no  benefit  from  it;   he 

was  not  taking  gold  coins,  which  were  equally 

at  his  disposal,,  nor  did  he  seem  to  want  them ; 

but  the  gold  bars  he  could  not  resist.     He 

had  handled  them  year  after  year  and  under 

steadily  decreasing  danger  of  detection  should 

he  steal  them ;  his  moral  fiber  was  insensibly 

weakened,  as  dry-rot  weakens  an  oak  beam ; 

at  last  it  broke,  and  he  was  a  thief.     It  was 

not  that  he  was  handling  more  gold,  or  that 

any  stress  of  circumstances  impelled  him.     It 

was  not  that  temptation  was  stronger,  but 

196 


1^ 


-  . 


The  Strongest  Body  Poisoned 

that  he  was  weaker.  He  "turned  after 
Adonijah,  though  he  had  not  turned  after 
Absalom." 

Bacteriologists  say  that  the  germs  of  many 
or  most  diseases  exist  in  our  bodies  while  we 
are  in  good  health ;  but  we  are  able  to  resist 
them.  There  comes  a  time,  however,  when 
such  resistance  is  weakened  by  that  clogging 
of  the  system  that  we  call  a  cold,  and  we 
have  pneumonia;  or  when  our  foes  are  rein- 
forced by  impure  water,  and  we  have  typhoid 
fever.  We  can  withstand  for  a  long  time — a 
marvelously  long  time — the  poison  of  a  foul 
atmosphere,  but  the  most  robust  constitution 
will  finally  succumb  to  it.  We  are  horrified 
by  stories  of  plagues  and  pestilences,  as  the 
yellow  fever,  cholera,  the  black  death.  They 
sweep  over  a  country  with  awful  devastation. 
But  they  pass  by,  and,  after  all,  do  not  kill 
one  where  bad  ventilation  and  unsanitary 
drainage,  with  their  endless  persistence,  kill 
ten.  The  mighty  storms  that  sweep  the 
Matterhorn  throw  down  with  awful  crash  only 
the  rocks  that  the  constantly  trickling  and 

197 


t 


ipitiiwi 


I 


\ 


^ 


il 


i 


The  Peril  of  Protracted  Temptation 

freezing  rills  of  water  have  through  years  or 
centuries  insensibly  crowded  to  the  edge  of 
the  cliff. 

I  feel  sure,  dear  friends,  that  in  determining 
our  moral  safety  or  peril  we  give  far  too  little 
heed  to  this  matter  of  protracted  temptation. 
I  say  nothing  now  of  the  duty  of  employers 
to  safeguard  their  employees  by  careful  and 
constant  oversight,  or  of  the  many  other  im- 
portant social  bearings  of  the  matter,  but  I 
wish  that  we  all  might  profoundly  realize  its 
relation  to  ourselves.  If  we  do  realize  it  we 
will  avoid  giving  any  temptation  a  long-con- 
tinued chance  to  undermine  our  resistance. 
The  vital  question  is  not  whether  we  are 
younger  or  older,  but  whemer  the  solicitation 
of  evil  can  reach  us  for  a  shorter  or  longer 
period.  No  doubt  we  can  resist  once,  twice, 
a  dozen  times ;  but  it  is  not  so  clear  that  we 
can  resist  twenty  times  or  a  hundred.  One 
might  think  that,  as  Joab  did  not  turn  after 
the  handsome,  gallant,  fascinating  Absalom, 
he  was  safe  from  ever  becoming  a  renegade. 

But  no ;  he  turned  after  Adonijah.     We  may 

198 


Perfect  Safety  in  God 

be  LOO  proud  to  believe  that  we  who  have 
withstood  so  long  can  ever  yield,  but  this  is 
the  very  "pride  that  goeth  before  destruc- 
tion."    "  I  do  not  allow  myself  to  look  at  a 
bad  picture,"  said  Sir  Peter  Lely,  the  artist, 
"for  if  I  do  my  brush  is  certain  to  take  a 
hint  from  it."     The  only  safe  way  to  treat  a 
temptation  that  has  begun  to  meet  us  fre- 
quently is  the  way  of  this  wise  book :  "  Avoid 
it,  pass  not  by  it,  turn  from  it,  and  pass  on." 
And  even  this  counsel,  good  as  we  at  once 
recognize  it  to  be,  we  will  not  heed  unless  we 
seek  divine  grace.     And  that  is  ready  :  "  God 
is   faithful,  who  will   not   suffer  you    to  be 
tempted  above  that  ye  are  able  ;  but  will  with 
the  temptation  make  also  the  way  of  escape, 
that  ye  may  be  able  to  endure  it."     Trust 
him  and  you  shall  not  turn  after  either  Ab- 
salom or  Adonijah. 


199 


i 


The  Gospel's  View  of  Our  Life 

By 
Rev.  Joseph  H.  Twichell 

Pastor  of  the  Asylum  Hill  Congregational  Church,  Hartford,  Conn. 

"Paul,  an  apostle  (not from  men,  neither  through  man, 
but  through  Jesus  Christ,  and  God  the  Father,  who  raised 
him  from  the  dead),  and  all  the  brethren  which  are  with 
me,  unto  the  churches  ofGalatia:  Grace  tojyou  and  peace 
from  God  the  Father,  and  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  gave 
himself/or  our  sins,  that  he  might  deliver  us  out  of  this 
present  evil  world,  according  to  the  will  of  our  God  and 
Father:  to  whom  be  the glorjf  for  ever  and  ever.  Amen." 
— Gal.  i.  7-5. 

THIS  salutatory  benediction,  with  the  like 
of  which  St.  Paul  opens  all  his  letters, 
pulsates  with  feeling — feeling  transparently 
generated  by  thoughts  and  affections  that 
move  in  the  highest  plane.  By  reference  or 
by  implication  the  characteristic  truths,  views, 
sentiments  of  the  Christian  religion  are  em- 
braced in  it.  It  would  make  a  text  for  ser- 
mons on  several  subjects.     But  what  just  now 

200 


H '  ^iUJUcJuULQ 


Penetrated  with  the  Sense  of  its  Greatness 


I  would  note  in  it  is  the  sense  of  life  and  of 
life's  meaning  to   himself  and   to   those   to 
whom  he  is  speaking  which  the  apostle  reveals 
in  it — that  general  import  as  conveyed  in  the 
nature  of  the  things  it  touches  upon  and  in 
its  tone.     So  taken  it  is  as  an  opening  by 
which  we  may  look  into  his  mind  and  mark 
in  what  lights  the  world  and  men  habitually 
appear  to  him— the  common  world  and  com- 
mon men.     For  we  are  to  consider  that  he  is 
addressing  people  who  are  nothing  out  of  the 
ordinary.     This  letter  of  his,  when  it  reaches 
its  destination,  will  be  read  to  congregations 
or  companies,  of  tradesmen,  artisans,  laborers, 
and  their  families,  come  together  on  the  Sab- 
bath or  in  the  evening  after  the  day's  work  is 
over,  probably  in  some  private  house.     They 
are  before  him  as  he  writes.     It  is  to  such 
that  he  deems  a  greeting  of  so  exalted  a 
strain,  breathing  the  atmosphere  of  spiritual 
realities,  reaching  in  scope  to  eternal  horizons, 
not  inappropriate  but  appropriate.    Approach- 
ing them  in  that  manner,  he  is  not  above  the 
level,  but  at  the  level  of  their  life  as  he  con- 


1 


>1 

;  ) 


I 


201 


The  Gospel's  View  of  Our  Life 


"I  . 


ceives  it ;  which  is  to  say,  he  is  affected  with 
an  idea  of  their  life  that  makes  it  a  wonder- 
fully great  thing  to  his  thought,  not  as  their 
life  alone,  but  as  human  life.  What  we  are 
observing  is  but  the  expression,  in  one  form, 
of  what  has  been  fitly  termed  the  Enthusiasm 
of  Humanity  that  distinguished  him.  To  him 
all  men  alike,  as  he  contemplates  them  in 
the  situation  and  experience  of  this  mortal- 
ity, are  the  subjects  of  an  overpowering  inter- 
est, sympathy,  concern. 

And  in  this  he  most  truly  represents  the 
Christian  gospel ;  for  it  is  certainly  a  funda- 
mental trait  of  it,  stamped  upon  it  by  its 
Author,  that-  to  an  incomparable  degree  it 
discerns  and  feels  the  element  of  magnitude 
in  human  life  as  such.  It  is  pervaded  by  an 
intense  emotion,  the  subject  of  which  is  man 
as  it  sees  him  and  knows  him  in  those  earthly 
conditions  that  are  universal.  Because  of 
that  insight  and  knowledge  it  is  kindled  with 
the  desire  of  entering  into  communication 
with  his  mind  and  spirit.  It  has  somewhat 
to  say  to  him  that  it  is  immensely  eager  to 

202 


mam 


Is  Apt  to  Seem  Overdrawn 


M. 


say.  And  so  it  is  part  of  our  preparation  to 
understand  the  suitableness  of  the  gospel  to 
man's  needs,  part  of  our  preparation  to  hear 
it  for  ourselves,  somehow  to  view  life  in  a 
way  to  make  us  share  its  feeling  about  it — 
the  feeling,  i.e.,  of  those  features,  accompani- 
ments, contents  of  it  that  fill  it  in  all  circum- 
stances with  a  profound  import. 

It  may  seem  strange  to  say  that  in  order  to 
do  this,  in  order  justly  to  compute  the  facts 
of  the  life  we  are  living  and  that  is  being  lived 
all  around  us,  it  "s  necessary  for  us  to  pause 
and  consider.  But  nothing  is  truer  than  that 
it  is  necessary ;  for  of  the  really  large  ingre- 
dients of  life — our  own  and  that  of  others — 
we  are  in  a  manner  unconscious,  or  much  of 
the  time  unconscious.  I  mean  we  do  not 
think  oi  it  in  their  lii^ht.  We  incline  to  esti- 
mate  life  by  its  inferior  aspects.  This  is 
commonplace,  but  so  it  is.  And  when  the 
gospel  speaks  its  great  words  to  us  they  strike 
us  at  first  as  unfitting  to  such  an  affair  as  life 
is  with  us  and  with  our  fellows.     They  seem 

pitched  to  too  high  a  key. 

203 


m 


11 


The  Gospel's  View  of  Our  Life 

It  is  not,  however,  the  gospel  alone  that 
beholds  the  scene  with  another  eye.  Take, 
for  example,  out  of  many  I  might  name,  such 
a  book  as  Mr.  Barrie's  "  Window  in  Thrums." 
Thrums  is  a  village  of  Scotch  weavers  whose 
years  are  spent  in  task-work  of  the  most 
drudging  sort ;  whose  dwellings,  abutting  on 
narrow,  gloomy  streets,  are  cheerless ;  whose 
backs  are  bent  with  toil ;  whose  life-story,  to 
the  casual  observer,  and  to  themselves  prob- 
ably, were  they  to  tell  it,  is  from  youth  to 
age  that  of  an  unremitting  struggle  with 
poverty.  But  no,  that  is  not  their  story  at 
all ;  rather,  it  transpires,  only  the  merest  out- 
side and  framework  of  it.  For  as  you  sit  at 
his  window  beside  the  writer,  who  has  lived 
there,  and  listen  to  him  while  he  relates  what, 
in  the  exercise  of  his  gift  of  penetrating  sight, 
he  has  watched  going  on  among  those  people 
in  their  homes,  in  their  relations  with  one 
another,  in  their  private  annals,  in  their 
hearts, — the  joys,  the  sorrows;  the  hopes, 
the  fears ;  the  loves,  the  enmities ;  the  noble- 
ness, the  baseness ;  the  moral  victories,  the 

204 


W 


*l 


The  Main  Contents  of  Experience  \'eiled 

moral  defeats, — your  sense  of  the  dullness 
and  paltriness  of  their  lot  gives  place  to  the 
sense  of  its  dramatic  and  tragic  natu re.    There 
is  material  there  for  a  Shakespeare  to  use, 
plenty  of  it.     Nor  is  there  anything  in  the 
Bible  that  overshoots  the  mark  presented  by 
that  community.     And  it  is  so  everywhere, 
in  all  communities.     It  is  so  here  among  you. 
We  are   wont   to   speak   of   one's    life  as 
though  it  were  principally  summed  up  in  his 
business,    his   occupation,   his  pursuit.     But 
that  is  only  an  incident  of  his  life.     Much  of 
his  experience  as  may  be  connected  with  it, 
more — far  more — is  aside  from  it  and  is  an- 
other story.     You  pass  one  another  on  the 
campus,  each  going  about  his  occasions ;  you 
exchange    greetings;    your    acquaintance   is 
perhaps  familiar,  even  intimate  ;  you  are  con- 
siderably informed  of  one  another's  circum- 
stances and  happenings ;  yet  how  little  you 
know  of  one  another  after  all !      Some  things, 
indeed,  that  are  among  the  causes  of  your 
classmate's  cheer  or  trouble,  that  touch  him 
deepl)^,  you  are  aware  of,  and  he  has  your 

205 


i  ^i 


tM 


r 


The  Gospel's  View  of  Our  Life 

sympathy  accordingly.  But  in  his  soul  are 
private  chambers  into  which  you  do  not  sec 
— neither  you  nor  any  one  else,  probably. 
And  so  there  are  in  yours.  VVe  all  wear 
masks  behind  which  the  multitude  of  the 
motions  of  our  thoughts  is  veiled  and  hidden. 
And  it  is  a  happy  thing  that  we  do;  for  were 
it  otherw^-e — were  all,  tliat  from  the  natural 
instinct  oi  erve  or  for  other  reasons,  we 
keep  to  ourselves,  revealed — we  could  hardly 
go  on  transacting  with  one  another  as  we  do 
and  as  it  is  necessary  we  should.  Every  once 
in  a  while  as  pastor  I  come  to  the  knowledge 
of,  for  instance,  some  cross,  heavy,  bitter, 
long  borne  in  silence,  unsuspected,  betrayed 
by  no  sign ;  and  when  that  occurs  my  view 
of  the  life  concerned  is  changed,  sometimes 
very  greatly,  and  I  .seem  then  to  be  warned 
to  go  softly  among  my  people,  for  I  do  not 
know  how  many  things  of  that  kind  there  are 
about  me. 

You   to  whom   I  am  now  speaking  are  a 
community  of  students,  living  essentially  such 

a  life  as  many  thousands  have  lived  here  be- 

206 


The  Multitude  of  Our  Thoughts  Hidden 


fore  you,  and  as  many  thousands  are  con- 
temporaneously living — a  life  cast  in  the  mold 
of  the  ordinary  academic  routine.  There  is 
nothing  specially  remarkable  in  it,  you  would 
say;  nothing  much  for  the  imagination  to 
expatiate  upon  ;  nothing  to  make  a  novel  out 
of,  still  less  a  poem  ;  yet,  beyond  question,  if 
you  knew  the  realities  that  in  the  fellowship 
of  every  day  come  close  to  you,  nay,  if  you 
knew  what  is  around  you  at  this  moment, — 
what  thoughts,  what  experiences,  representa- 
tive of  the  deepest  passion  and  pathos  of 
human  life, — you  would  be  struck  with  a 
great  amazement;  you  would  stare  at  one 
another. 

In  attributing  the  hue  and  quality  of  im- 
pressive significance  to  our  life  I  have  tlius 
far,  with  myself,  been  referring  to  those  cir- 
cumstances and  events  that  lie  out  of  view  in 
the  background  of  personal  Jiistory.  But 
there  are  other  phases  of  life  under  the  sur- 
face— universal,  omnipresent,  at  any  rate 
with  such  as  we — that  when  pondered  must 

magnify  our  conception  of  its  contents.     The 

207 


The  Gospel's  View  of  Our  Life 


J 


j 


thoughts,  for  instance,  ///^;/  life  that  all  of  us 
clay  by  day  are  thinking — what  thoughts 
they  are  and  how  do  they  follow  us!  Take 
the  thought  of  our  luortality,  and  what  a  place 
it  holds  in  every  mind  that  has  the  faculty  of 
reflection!  I  suppose  there  is  not  one  of  us 
who  does  not  ordinarily  many  times  between 
each  waking  and  sleeping  distinctly  recognize 
and  in  some  fashion  survey  his  situation  as 
the  heir  of  an  earthly  existence  that  is  tran- 
sient and  passing.  Morning,  noon,  and  night 
we  look  that  fact  in  the  face.  It  is  an  ele- 
ment of  our  self-consciousness,  the  thought 
of  it.  It  walks  the  street  with  us ;  it  goes 
into  company  with  us ;  it  comes  between  us 
and  the  page  \ve  are  leading;  it  mingles  with 
our  work  and  with  our  play.  The  man  you 
meet  and  talk  or  joke  v/ith  has  in  all  proba- 
bility within  the  hour  been  visited  by  it,  as 
you  have  been,  and  as  you  both  will  be  again 
within  the  hour  ensuing.  It  may  stay  with 
you  an  instant  only,  but,  wherever  you  are 
and    however    you    are    engaged   from   one 

year's  end  to  the  other,  there  occurs  no  long 

208 


The  Thought  of  Mortah'ty 

interval  in  which  it  does  not  step  from  behind 
its  curtain  and  exchange  glances  with  you. 
And  life  so  punctuated   with   the  sense  of 
mortality  is  something  more  than  humdrum. 
Again,  those  whom  we  pass  and  repass  in 
the  to  and  fro  of  our  and  their  common  days 
have  their  thoughts,  and  many  thoughts,  as 
do  we,  on  the  things  of  this  strange  world 
and  of  human  experience  that  it  is  not  possi- 
ble to  see  through,  that  are  enigmatic,  un- 
fathomable.     Certainly  they  do;    why  not? 
And  people  in  all  walks,  of  all  conditions. 
In  one  of  the  actor  Edwin  Booth's  letters, 
published  not  long  since,  he  says :  "  Life  is  a 
great  big  spelling-book,  and  on  every  page 
we  turn  the  words  grow  harder  to  understand 
the  meaning  of."     He  adds,  speaking  from  a 
religious  faith  which  I  believe  he  had  :  "  But 
there  is  a  meaning,  and  when  the  last  leaf 
flops  over  we'll    know    the    whole   lesson." 
That  feeling  of  his,  so  vividly  expressed,  with 
which,  notwithstanding  the  distractions  of  his 
caUing,  he  communed,  which  no  doubt  went 
on  and  came  off  the  stage  with  him  some- 

209 


jl 


\  I 


K 


^ 


I 


The  Gospel's  View  of  Our  Life 

times,  and  which  grew  deeper  as  he  grew 
older — you  all  understand  it  perfectly.  And 
it  is  everywhere ;  it  is  an  ingredient  of  human 
life  as  we  know  it. 

But  ah,  if  the  moral  facts,  the  moral  ex- 
periences, that  exist  and  are  realities  present 
in  the  persons  of  those  whose  lives  are  min- 
gled in  any  community,  in  this  community  of 
yours,  were  uncovered,  what  aspects  of  life, 
to  clothe  it  with  another  character  than  it 
wears  to  superficial  view,  would,  we  must 
suppose,  then  appear!  We  cannot,  indeed, 
tell  what,  save  in  one  instance,  i.e.,  ourselves. 
lUit  we  can  conjecture;  we  have  the  means 
of  conjecturing.  It  is  in  the  moral  province 
that  men,  that  associates,  have  least  know- 
ledge of  one  another  individually.  These  all 
alike  live  hiddenly  to  a  very  great  extent, 
and  necessarily  so.  I  do  not  now  mean  a 
purposed  concealment,  but  that  which  is 
natural.  But  behind  the  mask,  the  veil  of 
that  privacy  is  what,  were  it  seen,  would 
make  it  impossible  for  us  ever  to  look  on  life 
as  a  commonplace  affair.     In  those  to  whom 

2IO 


The  Invisible  Facts  around  Us 

we  speak  our  "Good  morning"  and  "  How 
are  you  "  as  they  go  by  us,  or  with  whom 
we  transact,  we  are  all  the  while  meeting 
things  that  are  of  evil  and  darkness— things 
also  that  are  of  goodness  and  light. 

We  meet  sin,  desires  of  sin,  choices  of  sin, 
consciences  in  the  torment  of  self-accusation, 
consciences  growing  seared  by  wicked  works. 
We  meet  falsehood,  ugly  resentment,  black 
envy,  cruel  malice,  degrading  sensuality. 
We  meet  haunting,  wretched  secrets  and  the 
miserable  fears  that  wait  upon  them. 

We  meet  other  secrets  too,  and  immeasur- 
ably different  ones :  happy  secrets  ;  secrets  of 
the  desire  and  choice  of  truth,  integrity,  and 
all  righteousness;  rejecHons  of  sin,  repen- 
tances, sweet  approvals  of  conscience,  pur- 
poses of  duty,  girdings  of  the  spirit  fc  r  the 
battle  with  temptation;  unfathomable  pure 
and  tender  affections ;  chanties,  generosities, 
forgivenesses— the  higher  nature  prevailing 
over  the  lower. 

What  is  met  in  us,  I  repeat,  we  know,  and 
God  knows ;  but  all  these  so  opposite  things 

2H 


\i 


M 


The   Gospel's  View  of  Our  Life 

we  do  daily  and  hourly  meet  in  the  familiar 
paths  of  the  fellowsliip  of  life.  We  do  not 
see  them  any  more  than  we  sec  those  other 
contents  of  life  that  lie  under  the  surface,  of 
which  I  have  spoken,  but  they  are  there. 
And  they  are  what  makes  our  common  hu- 
manity a  great  matter — truly  a  matter  no  less 
than  tragic.  I  do  not  say  that  we  ought  to 
see  them,  or  that  we  can.  As  I  have  re- 
marked, we  could  hardly  live,  or  live  together, 
if  we  did.  But  what  I  would  say  is  that  it  is 
in  their  light  that  God  sees  our  life  and  that 
the  gospel  of  Christ  sees  it.  It  was  one  of 
Christ's  divine  marks  that  **  he  needed  not 
that  any  one  should  bear  witness  concerning 
man,  for  he  knew  what  was  in  man,"  and  the 
word  of  his  gospel  is  addressed  to  our  secret 
thoughts,  our  secret  hearts.  That  is  the  rea- 
son of  the  emotion  that  fills  it.  That  is  why 
it  is  so  infinitely  serious  in  its  strain.  It 
speaks  ever  from  the  standpoint  of  its  view 
of  our  inward  man.  It  brings  us  its  sympa- 
thies, it  brings  us  its  offers  of  help,  accord- 
ingly. 

212 


Speaks  to  the  Inward  Man 

If  any  have  trou!)le?,  deep,  distressful,  that 
they  do  not  tell,  that  they  may  not  tell,  but 
must  bear  alone,  He  whose  voice  this  gospel 
is,  is  not  ignorant  of  them.  "  O  trembling, 
weary,  burdened  mortal,"  it  whispers,  "your 
pain  and  sorrow  are  not  hid ;  there  is  a  rich 
and  tender  divine  compassion  brooding  over 
you,  following  you  every  step  of  your  way. 
Ever  at  your  side,  though  unseen,  is  your 
heavenly  Father  and  Redeemer.  Cast  your 
care  on  him,  for  he  careth  for  you." 

If  we  have  our  dark  questions,  and  are 
pressed  by  the  weight  of  life's  mystery,  and 
oftentimes  know  not  what  to  think  of  it  all, 
the  gospel  understands  that  burden  too,  and 
appreciates  it  wholly,  and  feels  deeply  for  us 
under  its  oppression,  and  has  a  great  deal  to 
say — more  than  any  other  teacher — to  lighten 
the  load  of  it. 

If  we  have  sins,  sins  of  heart  and  of  life, 
that  are  unguessed  by  our  fellow- incn,  that 
are  our  guilty  secret,  to  the  eye  the  gospel 
turns  upon  us  they  are  naked  and  open  every 
one.     It  knows  all  about  them,  and  all  our 

213 


Il 


V 


f'lfl^l 

f 

aPk^H 

W  ' 

il^H 

¥ ' 

1 

\m 

i, 

The  Gospel's  View  of  Our  Life 

unhappy  and  fearful  thoughts  arising  from 
them.  And  in  them  likewise  it  feels  for  us 
intensely,  and  regarding  them  it  has  much  to 
say,  most  plainly,  most  earnestly,  and  in  per- 
fect kindness,  if  we  will  listen  to  it,  that  is 
just  what  we  need  to  hear. 

And  if,  in  the  midst  of  our  earthly  pursuits, 
participations,  and  hopes  we  are  in  our  deep 
heart  honestly  wishing  and  striving  after 
goodness,  and,  though  by  reason  of  our  frailty 
failing  oft,  are  holding  on  that  way,  cherish- 
ing the  aim  and  resolve  of  a  better  obedience 
to  all  duty,  the  gospel  penetrates  that  secret ; 
and  there  is  not  a  thought  we  have,  not  a 
difficulty  w.e  contend  with,  not  a  doubt  or 
fainting  we  fall  into,  that  it  does  not  compre- 
hend completely,  for  which  it  has  not  instant 
encouragement  and  aid,  as  some  of  you,  I  am 
persuaded,  have  found  out. 

In  short,  in  its  reckoning  our  life  is,  far 
above  all  else,  the  life  so  manifold,  so  check- 
ered, so  full  of  lights  and  shadows,  that  is 
lived   within.     There  is  the  main   flow  and 

volume  of  it.     To  us  as  in  that  life,  so  much 

214 


>  -4>  ^ir.  i»  <^«.<»»ii— <iin<i.^i  m     lapi^    jm ,j^,^ 


A  Gospel  for  Every  Soul 

of  which  is  unknown,  and  must  be,  except  to 
ourselves  and  to  God,  yet  that  comprehends 
the  bulk  of  our  total  experience  and  all  its 
heights  and  depths,— that  hfe  which,  as  our 
souls  are  acquainted  with  it,  has  such  room 
for  the  message  of  eternal  grace,  mercy,  and 
peace, — it  draws  near  and  speaks.  It  appeals 
to  us  in  the  name  of  our  supreme  and  most 
intimate  personal  realities,  if  we  do  but  con- 
sider. And  so  is  it  not  a  gift  most  practical 
and  most  precious — a  gospel  for  us  and  for 
humanity  ? 


215 


II 

I 

I' 


n 


K. 


i  ii 


IN 


Trophies  of  Youth  the  Safeguard  of 

Manhood 

By 

Rev.  James  G.  K.  McClure, 

Pastor  of  tl>e  Luke  Forest  (111.)  rreshytcrian  Church 

"  .^lui  tlw  f^rii'sf  said,  The  stccrd  of  Goliath  the  Philis- 
tiiw,  whom  thoti  slra-cst  in  the  valley  of  lUah,  behold,  it  is 
here  wrapped  in  a  eloth  behind  the  ephod:  if  thou  wilt  take 
that,  take  it:  for  there  is  no  other  save  that  here.  And 
David  said,  There  is  none  like  that;  give  it  me." — /  Sam. 
xxi.  p. 

IN  her  gymnasium  Yale  has  a  trophy-room. 
Many  a  graduate  feels  his  blood  stirred 
as  he  enters  it.  The  emblems  of  contest, 
flag  and  cup,  oar  and  ball,  arouse  the  mem- 
ory. Scenes  of  the  past  become  vivid — the 
surging  crowd,  the  excited  faces,  the  shouts 
of  victory.  Other  days  are  lived  over  again, 
and  there  is  joy  and  inspiration  in  recalling 
them. 

The  setting  up  of  trophies  is  a  custom  as 

216 


•/ 


I*- 


•i 


4-a^  ^.  K}h?T 


M 


f  t 


.1 

f 


•   ( 


u 


i 


lii 


The  Hour  of  Contest 


old  as  history;  all  ancient  peoples  did  it. 
The  Greeks  put  shields  and  helmets  on  a  tree 
of  the  battle-ground  if  it  was  a  land  victory, 
and  beaks  of  conquered  vessels  on  the  near- 
est coast  if  it  was  a  sea  victory.  The  Romans 
did  differently.  They  carried  their  trophies 
to  some  prominent  spot  in  Rome  itself.  Still 
differently  did  the  Egyptians  and  the  Israel- 
ites, who  deposited  their  trophies  in  their 
temples. 

So  it  was  that  the  sword  taken  by  youth- 
ful David  from  conquered  Goliath  was  in  the 
tabernacle.     What  stirring  scenes  that  sword 
suggested!      A  young  man  going  out  alone 
to  meet  a  vaunting  foe.     Two  armies,  Philis- 
tines and  Israelites,  numbering  thousands,  on 
opposite  hills,  watching  the  unevenly  matched 
contestants.     The  slinging  of  a  smooth  stone, 
its  sinking  into  Goliath's  forehead,  the  giant's 
fall,  David's  springing  forward  to  draw  Go- 
liath's  sword.     Surely  that  was  a  moment 
never  to  be  forgotten  when,  with  the  giant's 
head  in  his  left  hand,  David  held  aloft  the 
giant's  sword   in  his  right  hand,  and  there 

217 


Trophies  of  Youth 

burst  from  the  throats  of  Israel  the  shout  of 
victory  that  sent  dismay  to  the  hearts  of  the 
X  hihstines  and  made  them  as  leaves  before 
the  hurricane  to  the  onrushing  Israelites. 

Henceforth  that  sword  of  Goliath  was  a 
trophy.  It  stood  for  victory.  The  people 
placed  it  in  their  most  sacred  building,  that 
the  sight  of  it  might  call  to  mind  a  past  tri- 
umph and  arouse  to  new  courage.  There  it 
was,  behind  the  sacred  robe  of  divination, 
well  wrapped  in  protecting  cloths. 

Years  passed,  and  David,  no  more  a  ruddy 
youth,  but  now  a  care-marked  man,  seeks 
refuge  in  this  very  tabernacle  where  is  Go- 
liath's sword.  Reverses  have  come  to  him. 
Instead  of  being  a  favorite  he  is  an  exile  flee- 
ing before  envy  and  hate  for  his  life.  He  has 
not  one  weapon  of  defense.  He  begs  the 
priest  in  charge  to  give  him  some  piece  of 
armor.  The  priest  answers  that  but  one  wea- 
pon is  in  his  keeping — the  sword  of  Goliath. 
David's  heart  bounds  at  the  mention  of  that 
trophy.     "  There  is  none  like  that ;  give  it 

me,"  he  says.     As  his  hand  touches  it  he 

218 


^ 


\m 


The  Joy  of  Victory 

becomes  a  new  man.  His  courage  reasserts 
itself.  Cheered  by  the  memory  of  what  he 
once  had  done  with  it,  he  now  bravely  faces 
his  difficulties.  The  trophy  of  his  youth  has 
become  the  inspiration  of  his  manhood. 

Yo'jth-time  trophies!  It  is  Southey  who 
says :  "  Live  as  long  as  you  may,  the  first 
twenty  years  form  the  greater  part  of  your 
life.  They  aj^pear  so  when  they  are  passing; 
they  seem  to  have  been  so  when  we  look 
back  to  them ;  and  they  take  up  more  room 
in  our  memory  than  all  the  years  which  suc- 
ceed them."  Victories  won  then  mean  more 
than  victories  won  later.  Never  is  a  man  so 
conscious  of  the  sweets  of  triumph  and  so 
elated  by  the  joys  of  success  as  in  his  earlier 
years.  The  shout  that  greeted  David  when 
he  conquered  Goliath  sank  deeper  into  his 
heart  and  memory  than  any  shout,  he  ever 
heard  afterward.  To  succeed  in  the  contests 
of  youth,  whatever  their  sphere,  social,  lite- 
rary, political,  athletic,  is  to  have  an  experi- 
ence of  pleasure  that  is  scarcely  surpassed  in 
all  one's  life. 

219 


C^"*^ 


'  < 


Trophies  of  Youth 

Besides,  youth  is  like  the  Nile's  springtime, 
when  the  fullness  of  the  river  gives  oppor- 
tunity to  store  away  for  the  coming  drought. 
In  youth  virtues  and  experiences  can  be  laid 
up  for  the  crises  of  life.  Only  as  hope  and 
courage  are  accumulated  then  are  they  in 
reserved  force  for  sudden  difficulty  a..-^  trial. 
The  soldier  who  in  camp  does  not  learn  to 
handle  his  rifle  will  be  helpless  in  the  confu- 
sion of  battle.  Insurance  cannot  be  obtained 
when  flames  are  bursting  out  of  the  house. 
He  who  does  not  strive  for  victories  in  youth 
stands  small  show  of  victories  in  manhood. 
For  time  is  a  current  bearing  the  yesterdays 
into  to-days  and  the  to-days  into  to-mor- 
rows. The  present  is  the  future,  carrying  it 
in  itself  as  the  seed  carries  the  flower.  A  to- 
morrow unconnected  with  to-day  is  unthink- 
able. The  flower  that  is  to  be  must  have 
somewhere  a  seed  that  now  is.  Youth  is  the 
seed  of  manhood,  and  what  we  lay  up,  or  fail 
to  lay  up,  in  youth  determines  what  we  shall 
have,  or  shall  fail  to  have,  in  manhood. 

What,  then,  are  these  trophies  to  be  won 

220 


\' 


' 


I 


A  Sound  Body 

in  youth  for  manhood's  safeguard  ?  Physical 
strength  is  one.  Without  it  no  mature  man 
can  do  his  best  work.  Youth,  with  its  warm 
blood,  vigorous  vitality,  strong  appetite,  rest- 
ful sleep,  may  be  a  very  magazine  of  power. 
The  wear  and  tear  of  physical  strain  have  not 
come  yet.  While  they  tarry  a  young  man 
may  fortify  himself  for  them  by  accumula- 
tions of  health  which  later  will  be  a  storehouse 
of  resource. 

Such  being  the  case,  it  is  no  slight  matter 
to  hurt  one's  physical  vigor  either  by  neglect 
or  abuse.  Many  men  have  broken  down 
within  five  years  of  leaving  college,  and  be- 
come impaired,  if  not  useless,  because  they 
did  not  treasure  their  health  while  here. 
Scores  have  fallen  by  the  wayside  later  be- 
cause of  the  recklessness  with  which  they 
spent  their  buoyant  energy.  Sickrvess  and 
death  are  indeed  inevitable  to  every  one,  but 
there  is  no  necessity  for  soliciting  their  ap- 
proach. Death  v/alks  as  near  the  young 
man's  back  as  the  old  man's  face,  but  why 
urge  him  to  overtake  us  ?     That  law  of  God 

221 


f 


Trophies  of  Youth 

that  makes  physical  decay  the  penalty  of 
physical  wrong  is  unbreakable.  Dissipation 
of  vital  energy  inevitably  ends  in  physical 
deterioration.  A  young  man  cannot  let  any 
bodily  passion  run  away  with  him  and  ex- 
pect to  be  safe,  any  more  than  a  child  letting 
a  spirited  horse  take  the  bit  in  his  teeth  to 
run  as  he  will  can  expect  to  escape  peril. 
A  man's  body  is  God's  temple,  and  God 
never  allows  sacrilege  to  his  temple  to  go 
unchallenged  and  uncondemned.  But  if 
with  earnest  desire  to  conserve  its  sacredness 
a  man  stores  away  all  possible  physical  vigor, 
he  will  find  in  after-years,  as  David  found 
with  Goliath's  sword,  that  the  purity  and  self- 
control  of  his  youth  stand  him  in  good  stead 
in  the  hours  of  exposure. 

Intellectual  discipline  is  another  trophy  to 
be  won  in  youth.  Let  the  distinction  be- 
tween discipline  and  knowledge  be  kept  clear. 
What  an  educated  youth  needs  is  capabilit}' 
to  apply  his  mind — investigating,  comparing, 
combining,  drawing  deductions — and  then  to 
put  the  full  force  of  that  mind  into  the  work 

222 


III  mill*  ■ifiiNiii.i^nw 


jMffji 


MMM 


Ability  to  Think 

undertaken.  Better  than  universal  knowleclL^e 
is  power  to  use  limited  knowledge.  Too 
much  knowledge  there  cannot  be,  but  know- 
ledge without  the  ability  to  use  it  is  an  im- 
pediment, not  a  help.  He  who  fails  in  youth 
to  learn  how  to  ponder  facts  and  arrange 
them  is  at  a  great  disadvantage  when  caugiit 
in  the  hurry  and  competition  of  after-years. 
Neither  merchants  nor  engineers,  generals 
nor  scholars,  can  do  their  work  successfully 
with  minds  undisciplined.  As  much  solid, 
penetrating  thought  may  be  required  'u\  rail- 
roading as  in  teaching,  in  banking  as  in  edit- 
ing. The  success  of  a  college  youth  in  the 
industry  to  which  he  gives  iiimself  will  de- 
pend largely  on  his  power  to  think.  If  he 
acquires  that,  then  he  may  go  whithersoever 
Providence  calls  him  and  he  need  not  be 
afraid  to  attempt  his  work.  The  man  who 
can  use  aright  two  facts  will  always  be 
stronger  than  the  man  who  has  a  hundred 
facts,  but  who  cannot  use  them. 

And  now  for  moral  trophies.     One  such  is 
habits.     In  youth  we  form  them,  and  then  in 

223 


Trophies  of  Youth 


■<<' 


:  I 


ii 


■  J. 


r  - 
M 


% 


age  they  form  us.  At  first  they  are  our 
method  of  life,  and  at  last  they  are  our  life 
itself.  Once  they  involved  conscious  effort, 
later  they  seem  automatic.  Care  entered 
into  the  first  writing  of  our  signature,  but  now 
we  write  that  signature  almost  as  uncon- 
cernedly as  a  machine  prints. 

Habits  of  good  can  thus  become  the  pro- 
tection of  our  maturity.  They  are  the  chief 
dependence  on  which  a  man  must  rely  for  his 
own  right  conduct  when  circumstances  call 
for  such  speedy  action  that  he  cannot  stop  to 
analyze  the  motives  that  guide  him.  If 
temptation  to  do  evil  suddenly  assails  one 
habituated  to  the  good,  the  chances  are  that 
he  will  continue  on  in  the  habit  of  the  good. 
For  there  are  hundreds  of  good  things  which 
the  human  heart  may  do  so  regularly  and 
persistently  that  they  become  a  very  part  of 
the  heart,  shaping  its  opinions,  controlling  its 
desires,  and  deciding  its  affections. 

One  such  special  habit  is  that  of  reverence. 

Reverence  is  treating  worthy  things  worthily, 

and  the  most  worthy  things  the  most  worthily. 

224 


The:  Mission  of  Reverence 


r 


The  command  "  not  to  take  the  name  of  the 
Lord  in  vain  "  teaches  that  God,  the  best, 
should  be  treated  as  the  best.  It  is  an  in- 
junction to  have  good  judgment,  to  estimate 
persons  and  things  aright,  and  to  act  toward 
the  noblest  and  greatest  as  though  they  were 
the  noblest  and  greatest.  Such  a  habit  of 
discriminating  thought  and  conduct,  once  ac- 
quired, is  a  ceaseless  blessing.  It  secures  a 
just  valuation  of  all  objects  to  be  considered, 
and  it  prevents  men  from  looking  upon  ten  as 
though  it  were  fifty,  on  the  mole-hill  as 
though  it  were  a  mountain,  on  the  transient 
as  though  it  were  permanent,  on  evil  as 
though  it  were  good. 

Happy  the  man  who  early  acquires  reve- 
rence for  purity.  To  consider  spotlessness  as 
insignificant  is  to  have  the  whole  judgment 
demoralized.  Impure  thought,  once  become 
a  fixed  element  of  life,  will  color  all  vision 
and  lower  all  ideals,  will  make  untrustworthy 
all  our  opinions  of  society  and  of  individuals. 
But    reverence   for  purity,    once    become  a 

habit,  will  so  permeate  our  nature  that  the 

225 


/i! 


r 


<i 


I 


Trophies  of  Youth 

low  and  lewd  will  have  no  hold  upon  our 
thought,  and  we  shall  wonder  that  any  per- 
son can  spoil  his  jokes  with  them  or,  still 
worse,  soil  his  own  mind  with  them. 

Happy,  too,  the  man  who  early  acquires 
reverence  for  himself.  When  a  young  man 
adopts  the  habit  of  regarding  every  one  of 
his  appetites  as  a  divine  gift,  bestowed  for 
holy  purposes,  and  will  not  allow  them  to  be 
diverted  to  wrong  uses,  it  is  an  absolute  im- 
possibility that  he  ever  become  a  drunkard  or 
any  kind  of  a  profligate.  Whatever  is  hurt- 
ful to  himself  will  be  esteemed  base  by  him 
simply  because  it  is  hurtful.  He  will  acquire 
a  self-mas.tery  that  will  give  him  a  victor's 
sense  of  power.  He  will  be  too  high-souled 
to  mind  low  and  dishonorable  things.  They 
liuiy  throng  about  him,  but  they  cannot  ap- 
peal to  him. 

This  matter  of  reverence,  what  a  safeguard 
it  is  when  it  is  reverence  for  God  and  for 
what  manifests  God !  Certainly  no  one  may 
expect  youth  to  estimate  all  objects  as  man- 
hood does.     Youth  is  not   asked  to  be  as 

226 


Loyalty  to  Truth 

sedate  as  age.      Its  very  nature  is  sprightly. 
But  if  youth,  whatever  its  sprightiincss,  will 
continually  hold  itself  to  a  reverential  use  of 
God's  name,  of  God's  house,  of  God's  wor- 
ship, of  God's  Hible,  yes,  and  of  every  fact 
that  in  nature,  in  the  soul,  and  in  history  re- 
veals God,  youth  will  have  laid  up  a  condition 
of  mind  that  will  be  its  salvation  when  doubt 
contemptuously    asks,    "What    is    truth?" 
For  if  there  is  reverence  for  the  real  and  an 
earnest  purpose   to   exalt   highest   the    best 
things  of  life,  youth   has  a  panoply  tliat  all 
the  hosts  of  mental  and  moral  confusion  can- 
not pierce.     But  if  there  is  no  such  reverence 
failure  is  sure.     Once  I  saw  my  own  class- 
mate, urged  to  a  stronger,  better  life,  throw 
himself  on  a  sofa  and  with  tears  in  his  eyes 
hopelessly  answer:  "  It  is  no  use.      I  cannot 
do  it.     I  have  yielded  to  wrong  so  oiLen  that 
I  have  no  will  power  left.      I  cannot  resolve 
to  do  right."     It  was  a  pitiful  scene  :  a  charm- 
ing, popular  young  man  looking  for  an  instant 
beneath  the  surface  of  things,  and  helplessly 
declaring  himself  the  slave  of  a  ^^owerless 

227 


Li 


Trophies  of  Youth 


i: 


j; 


will !  And  all  because  throughout  his  youth 
he  had  habitually  yielded  to  the  poorer  ele- 
ments of  his  nature  and  had  allowed  an  im- 
potent will  to  become  his  A?^//;/^'- characteristic. 
But  there  is  one  more  spliere  for  youth- 
time  trophies,  and  that  a  i^reat  one — memo- 
ries. All  youth  is  filling  itself  up  with 
memories,  but  no  youth  seems  to  have  such 
happy  opportunities  for  memories  as  college 
youth.  Memories!  They  are  almost  the 
largest,  if  not,  in  fact,  the  very  largest,  part 
of  what  a  man  keeps  with  him  when  long 
years  have  passed  since  he  was  a  college 
youth.  Why  should  those  memories  ever 
shame  our  hearts  or  injure  our  power  in  man- 
hood? What  a  mistake  that  youth  made 
who  for  fifteen  minutes,  out  of  mere  curiosity, 
read  a  debasing  book,  and  then  afterward  was 
obliged  to  say,  "  That  book  has  haunted  me 
like  an  evil  specter  ever  since.  I  have  asked 
God  on  my  knees  to  obliterate  that  book 
from  my  mind,  but  I  believe  that  I  shall  carry 
down  the  damage  of  those  fifteen  minutes  to 


my  grave 


M 


228 


Good  Memories  a  Defense 


Good  memories  are  strength  and  comfort. 
Moses,  still  untried,  heard  God  speak  a  mes- 
sage of  recognition  and  duty  to  him  from  a 
burning  bush.      Later,  grown  to  be  an  old 
man  and  burdened  with  anxieties,  Moses  re- 
called  that   experience   at   the   bush  and   it 
revived  his  faith  and  cheered  his  heart.      It  is 
in  early  years  that  God  loves  to  put  his  voices 
into  the  soul,  assuring  us  of  his  nearness,  call- 
ing to  us  to  be  earnest,  and  arousing  us  to 
endeavors  for  our  fellows.     In  more  mature 
years  we  may  be  almost  dazed  by  our  disap- 
pointments, by  the  complexity  and  strife  of 
business,  by  the  unkindness  and  even  false- 
ness   of    our    supposed    friends.     Then    the 
temptation  comes  to  us  to  question  the  good- 
ness of  God,  to  question  the  reality  of  the 
soul   and  the  worth  of  self-denying  effort. 
In  such  an  hour  what  a  help  it  is  todook  back 
and   say,  "  Once  I  was  in  college,  and  there 
God  came  very  close  to  me  with  his  blessings. 
I  felt  him  in  my  heart.     And  though  I  knew 
less  of  the  world  tlian  now,  still  I  had  a  ten- 
der conscience  then  ;  I  was  not  embittered  by 

229 


\*( 


Trophies  of  Youth 


i 


I 


|i 


1 


life's  rough  usage ;  my  motives  were  simple 
and  pure  "  !  Tliat  very  memory  steadies  the 
soul  like  an  anchorage.  There  are  many  men 
gone  out  from  this  college  who  to-day  are 
helped  to  be  noble  by  the  recollection  of  what 
God  enabled  them  to  think  and  feel  and  do 
when  they  were  students  here,  walking  be- 
neath these  elms  and  entering  these  halls. 
God  gave  them  glimpses  of  himself  and  of 
duty  that  make  it  impossible  for  them  to 
doubt  the  reality  of  God  and  the  joy  of  his 
service. 

A  white-haired  Yale  man  loved  to  tell  this 
story.  In  his  undergraduate  days  he  led  a 
classmate  to  the  new  life  of  a  Christian.  That 
classmate  became  a  wise  and  influential  leader. 
He  blessed  society  and  the  church  by  his 
Christian  earnestness.  He,  in  turn,  led  many 
others  to  the  Christian  life.  What  a  trophy 
was  this  of  ever-accumulating  power  laid  up 
in  youth  for  the  world's  good!  "  Bury  my 
influence  with  me,"  said  a  man  once  vicious, 
but  now  repentant.     He  was  dying,  but  his 

influence  could  not  be  buried  with  him.     It 

230 


Christian  Character  a  Tropliy 

was  a  living  thinejf  that  would  not  die.  John 
Newton  corrupted  a  companion  when  on 
board  the  ship  Harriet.  Later,  when  John 
Newton  had  reformed,  he  met  the  one  he 
had  corrupted  and  tried  to  undo  the  evil  he 
had  done,  but  he  failed. 

Noble  Christian  character!  Who  will  lay- 
up  this  trophy  now?  It  is  a  trophy,  never 
coming  of  itself,  but  won,  and  won  through 
contest.  There  are  five  inclinations,  Horace 
says,  that  must  be  fought  in  this  contest. 
His  words  are:  "Youth  yields  to  every  evil 
impression,  is  rough  to  reproof,  is  slow  in 
attending  to  his  best  interests,  is  presumptu- 
ous, and  is  swift  to  leave  what  before  has 
pleased  his  fancy."  These  are  the  inclinations 
to  be  conquered.  They  are  conquered  when 
youth  (i)  resists  evil,  (2)  values  reproof,  (3) 
hastens  to  do  right,  (4  )  seeks  divine  guidance, 
and  (5)  cleaves  to  the  good.  The  very  im- 
petuosity and  passion  of  youth,  turned  from 
wrong  uses  into  right  uses,  help  us  to  win 
our  trophies. 

Win  them,  then,  as  David  won  Goliath's 

331 


■ 


w 


\ti 


V 


(I 


Trophies  of  Youth 

sword.  Go  forth  to  life  in  the  name  and 
under  the  inspiration  of  God.  Have  open 
eyes  to  see  the  evils  that  threaten  God's 
kingdom  in  the  world.  Face  those  evils. 
You  know  full  well  that  God  wishes  their 
overthrow.  Do  not  hesitate  to  enter  the 
field  against  them.  Advance  upon  them  be- 
fore the  fascination  of  fear  paralyzes  you. 
Thousands  may  stand  irresolute,  but  do  you 
dare  and  do.  If  none  else  act,  go  forward 
alone.  Use  the  skill  you  have,  simple  though 
it  seem,  c!.nd  do  your  best.  What  if  no  voice 
does  speak  to  you  from  the  skies,  indicating 
duty?  It  is  enough  that  there  is  an  evil 
needing  overthrow.  Meet  it  with  the  soul 
of  a  knight.  God's  eye  is  on  you ;  God's 
heart  is  with  you.  To  conquer  is  to  give 
cheer  to  all  God's  Israel.  To-day  and  now 
do  the  deeds  and  win  the  experiences  that 
to-morrow  will  be  your  joy  and  salvation. 


lil 


J   » 


232 


i 

Mt''\ 

fli 

m,i 

■■t 

w 

^^^Bli 

■ 

^^^M^  * 

II 


I 

r, 


!5 


il 


iCuUA.-  G^/lGrr~t  gA^ 


1 


Manhood's    Struggle  and  Victory 

By 

S.  E.  Herrick,  D.D. 

Pastor  of  >h.  Moun,  Vcmon  Church,  lioston,  Mass. 
The  Umb  ,„ade  war  U'ilh  m  heaH.-RcvehUo,,,  passim. 
jV/T  Y  text,  you  Observe,  is  not  quoted,  but 
1  V 1  extracted.     It  is  a  condensation  in  few 
words  of  extended  passages  of  tiiis  remark- 
able  book.     I  have  long  felt  that  but  little 
confidence  is  to  be  placed  in  any  minute  and 
particularizing    interpretation   of    its    pictu- 
resque and  amazing  scenery.     The  book  has 
been    the  favorite   exercise-ground   for  the 
■ngenuity  and  wilfulness  of  exegetical  cranks 
and  prediction-mongers  through  all  the  cen- 
fnes.     It  has  been  the  arsenal,  moreover 
whence  sectarian   virulence  and   theological 
hatred  have  drawn  their  weapons  of  nickname 
and   threat  and  invective.     The   beast,   the 


Manhood's  Struggle  and   Victory 


I 
iiii 


■, 


dragon,  the  scarlet  woman,  Babylon  the 
Great — these  names  have  been  affixed  in  the 
history  of  theological  or  ecclesiastical  war- 
fare to  this  party  and  to  that,  sometimes, 
no  doubt,  in  the  spirit  of  sincere  and 
thoughtful  interpretation,  but  quite  as  often 
under  the  inspiration  of  that  animosity  which 
so  often  attends  religious  differences  among 
people  nominally  Christian.  Romanists  and 
Protestants  alike  have  picked  up  stones  out 
of  this  field  to  throw  at  each  other.  Lope 
de  Vega,  a  most  devoted  Catholic,  cele- 
brated the  privateering  exploits  of  the  Prot- 
estant Sir  Francis  Drake  in  an  epic  poem 
which  he  called  "  The  Dragontea,"  punning 
upon  Sir  F'-ancis's  name,  in  which  he  is  made 
to  fill  the  part  of  the  great  red  dragon  of 
the  Apocalypse,  and  is  threatened  with  that 
monster's  fate  as  the  enemy  of  God  and 
man.  In  the  same  poem  Queen  Elizabeth 
figures  as  the  "  scarlet  lady  of  Babylon." 

But  various  and  contradictory  as  have  been 
the    interpretations  of   most    of   the    great 

figures  which  throng  the  gorgeous  canvas  of 

234 


f 


The  Lamb  and  the  Beast 

the  revelator,  there  is  one,  the  chief  figure, 
which  appears  more  than  a  score  of  times, 
concerning  which,  through  all  the  ages,  there 
has  been  no  difTerence  of  opinion.  That  is 
the  Lamb.  Assuming  that  the  great  vision, 
or  series  of  visions,  was  seen  and  described 
by  John,  the  author  of  the  fourth  gospel, 
there  can  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  meaning 
with  which  this  great  central  figure  was 
charged  in  his  mind.  The  Lamb  is  mani- 
festly the  eternal  Christ — the  infinite  gentle- 
ness and  patience  and  long-suffering,  and 
spirit  of  sacrifice,  which  is  central  and  inti- 
mate in  Godhood,  which  was  once,  visibly  to 
mortals,  condensed  and  expressed  in  the 
historic  life  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth — "  the 
Lamb  of  God,"  i.e.,  the  Lamb  which  is  in 
God's  nature  eternally,  without  beginning 
and  without  end.  This  gentle  and  yet 
august  figure  appears  and  reappears  through- 
out the  book,  and  often  in  positions  of  start- 
ling incongruity.  He  stands  "  a  Lamb  as  it 
had  been  slain" — what  so  helpless? — and 
yet  in  the  midst  of  the  throne,  in  the  place  of 

235 


imm^^^^ 


Manhood's  Struggle  and  Victory 

supreme  eminence,  from  the  foundation  of 
the  world.  It  is  the  Lamb,  again,  that 
opens  the  seven-sealed  book  of  heaven's 
mysteries.  It  is  the  Lamb  who  stands  as 
Bridegroom — his  wife  the  new  Jerusalem, 
ever  descending  out  of  heaven  from  God. 
It  is  the  Lamb  that  is  the  lamp  and  glory  of 
the  celestial  city,  in  the  midst  of  whose  light 
the  nations  are  to  walk.  It  is  the  Lamb — 
type  of  all  gentleness — from  whose  wrath 
kings  and  princes  and  tribunes  hide  them- 
selves and  entreat  rocks  and  mountains  to 
shelter  them.  And  finally,  it  is  the  Lamb 
which  again  and  again  makes  war  with  the 
beast,  coming  up  now  out  of  the  earth  and 
now  out  of  the  sea,  and  which  finally  over- 
comes and  makes  him  powerless  for  ever  and 
ever. 

The  panorama  is  mystic,  marvelous,  amaz- 
ing. I  deem  it  a  mistaken  endeavor  to 
attempt  any  refinement  of  interpretation. 
There  is  danger  in  dealing  with  such  a  pic- 
ture   too    microscopically.     Symbolism    too 

often  runs  into  wilfulness.     The  tremors  of 

236 


The  Lamb  and  the  Beast 


the  pencil  are  sometimes  magnified  into  es- 
sentials, while  really  grand  essentials  are  lost 
sight  of.  In  the  portrayal  of  a  regenerating 
world  what  matters  it  whether  or  no  we  can 
discover  all  at  once  the  special  significance  of 
the  jacinth,  the  amethyst,  and  the  beryl,  the 
seven  heads  and  ten  horns  of  the  beast,  the 
seven  vials  and  the  falling  stars,  and  the 
twelve  manner  of  fruits  that  are  growing 
upon  the  tree  of  life?  What  we  want  is  to 
let  the  grand  sweep  and  spiritual  movement 
of  the  picture  into  our  thought  and  life. 
While  the  glories  of  a  magnificent  park  like 
the  Yosemite  or  the  Yellowstone  are  around 
one,  it  is  not  best  to  devote  much  time  to  t'le 
microscopic  investigation  of  a  single  flower 
or  the  striae  of  a  beetle's  wing-case.  It  seems 
to  me  that  we  have  here  the  cartoon  of  a 
master  who  does  not  care  at  present  to  re- 
veal the  significance  of  detail,  but  who 
wishes  to  convey  his  ideal  of  a  great  time- 
movement.  He  entitles  his  canvas  at  the 
outset  "The  Revelation  of  Jesus  Christ." 
And  the   core   of   that   revelation   is   "  the 

237 


a. 


<i 


Maiiliood's  Struggle  and  Victory 

Lamb  making  war  with  the  beast."  This 
warfare  and  its  issues  constitute  the  underly- 
ing^ unity  of  the  whole  book. 

And  the  beast?  VV^ell,  the  beast  is  the 
beast;  the  beast  which  is  the  basal  element  in 
human  life,  which  matle  human  life  possible, 
and  the  struggle  with  which  and  the  con- 
quest of  which  make  an  angelic  life  possible. 
The  conquest  of  the  beast  by  the  Lamb  is 
the  meaning  of  all  history  in  its  larger  as- 
pect and  of  all  individual  biography.  The 
interest  which  attaches  to  every  piece  of 
biographical  literature  arises  from  the  fact 
that  it  shows  how  the  battle  went  in  some 
particular  case.  This  Book  of  Revelation  is 
for  this  reason  in  some  grand  sense  a  sum- 
mary of  all  human  history,  as  it  is  also  a 
typical  picture  of  all  personal  struggle.  In 
fact,  no  novel,  no  romance,  was  ever  written 
that  proved  of  any  interest,  save  as  it  made 
this  conflict  the  burning  problem  of  the 
story.  It  is  the  solution  of  this  problem 
which  chains  your  interest  and  makes  you 

eager  for  the  development  of  the  plot  and  its 

238 


i: 


The  Lamb  and  the  Beast 


culmination.  When  that  is  reached,  and  you 
have  Icariieil  how  the  battle  went,  the  author 
has  nothing  niore  that  you  care  to  read.  A 
story  that  were  purely  human,  or  even 
purely  angelic,  would  be  too  tame  for  earthly 
readers.  We  want  to  see  the  beast  van- 
quished or  transformed.  We  want  to  see 
the  earthly,  the  sensual,  the  devilish,  tram- 
pled down  or  regenerated.  No  stage-play 
was  ever  successful  for  long,  no  drama  could 
ever  get  a  place  in  literature,  that  did  not 
awaken  an  interest  in  this  age-long,  world- 
wide, universal,  an-',  yet  intensely  personal 
contest  between  the  Lamb  and  the  beast. 
It  is  the  truth  which  science  emphasizes  in 
its  latest  word  about  the  struggle  for  exis- 
tence and  the  survival  of  the  fittest.  History 
and  science  both  have  to  do  simply  with  this 
— the  elimination  of  the  beast  and  the  en- 
franchisement of  the  Lamb.  It  is  a  terrific 
warfare,  but  only  pessimism  says  that  its 
issue  is  doubtful.  "  The  meek  shall  inherit 
the  earth."  "The  persecuted  for  righteous- 
ness' sake  shall  possess  the  kingdom  of  God." 

^39 


r 


Manhood's  Struggle  and  Victory 

If  we  take  a  large  general  retrospect  of 
human  history,  its  dominant  and  most  im- 
pressive suggestion  is  the  power  of  the  beast, 
the  beast  ///  man,  and  the  beast  over  man. 
And  the  beast  is  so  exultant,  so  vigorous,  and 
the  man  is  so  feeble  and  so  vincible.  The 
beast  seems  to  be  the  steering  power.  Go 
through  the  roods  of  Oriental  sculpture,  say 
in  the  Ikitish  Museum,  in  which  ancient  civ- 
ilizations have  left  the  enduring  records  cf 
their  life  and  their  religion.  Everywhere 
man  and  beast  are  joined  intiissolubly,  and 
the  beast  is  evidently  the  groom  and  gover- 
nor of  the  union — bulls  with  human  heads, 
the  faces- of  men  joined  with  the  swift  wing 
and  ferocious  talons  of  ravenous  and  unclean 
birds,  sphinxes  in  which  humanity  seems  to 
be  trying  to  paw  itself  free  from  its  bestiality, 
and  yet  to  be  helplessly  held  back  by  the 
superior  force  of  the  brutishness.  And  the 
fauns  and  satyrs  and  tritons  and  centaurs  of 
classic  fable  are  reminiscences  of  the  same 
great  fact   in   man's  spiritual  history.     The 

great  empire  upon  whose  ruins,  and  largely 

240 


\ 


T 


' 


The  Lamb  and  the  Beast 

out  of  whose  materials,  our  modern  civiliza- 
tion has  been  constructed,  with  great  pride 
and  in  good  faith  traced  its  origin  to  the  in- 
fants that  were  suckled  by  the  wolf.     And 
nine   tenths  of    the  scutcheons   of    the  Old 
World  to-day  still  perpetuate  the  story  of 
this  old  consciousnejs  of  the  power  of  the 
beast,  and  instead  of  their  shame,  as  it  is, 
treat  it  as  their  glory,  with  their  dragons  and 
their  griffins  and  their  lions  and  their  vultures 
and   their  bulls   and   wild   boars.     We  pass 
these  things  by  as  the  unmeaning  relics  of  a 
dead  mythology.     But  they  arc  not  myth- 
ical  or  dead   or   unmeanini;.     They  are   in 
every  case  the  assertion  of  the  power  of  the 
beast  in  the  history  of  man's  nature,  religion, 
and  Hfc.     They  constitute  the  pictorial  his- 
tory of  human  animalism.     They  are  a  part 
of  the  same  heraldic  blazonry  which  fills  this 
Book  of  the  Revelation. 

And  the  facts  are  not  dead  which  they 
represent.  Beasthood  may  vary  its  prevalent 
form  from  time  to  time,  but  it  exists  in  some 
form.     Look  around  us.     It  is  beasthood — 

241 


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l  ! 


« 


! 


Manhood's  Struggle  and  Victory 

huw  it  shall  he  controlled  and  kept  under,  how 
it  shall  be  transformed  or  cast  out — that  con- 
stitutes tiie  problem  of  government  and  of 
society  in  all  our  large  communities.  The 
trail  of  the  dragon  winds  through  all  our 
streets,  and  his  poisonous  breath  meets  one 
at  every  turn.  We  can  hardly  keep  it  from 
our  purest  and  most  secluded  homes,  and 
over  what  numberless  habitations  it  broods  as 
a  constant  atmosphere,  poisoning  all  domes- 
ticity, making  households  bitter  and  hearts 
hopeless. 

And  it  is  not  simply  a  social  and  govern- 
mental problem,  which  you  and  I  can  hold 
off  and. look  upon  from  afar  with  more  or  less 
complacency.  It  is  the  one  problem  of  all 
personal  life.  Some  of  us  can  look  into  faces 
made  dear  by  years  of  pleasant  companionship 
or  by  ties  of  birth  and  blood,  and  watch  with 
solicitude  the  fortunes  of  this  strange  warfare 
with  the  beast.  No  joy  of  life  so  high  and 
solemn  as  that  with  which  we  discern  the 
tokens  of  his  weakening.     No  woe  so  grave, 

so    intolerable,   as    that    which    crushes  our 

242 


t 


The  Lamb  and  the  Beast 

hearts    within    us    as    wc    see    manhood    or 
womanhood  ^r^ing  down  under  the  impulses 
of   animalism— beconn'nL,r  "earthly,  sensual, 
and  devilish."     Nay,  we  all  know  this  power 
in  ourselves.     We  are  conscious  of  the  beast 
in    us.     We   have   experienced   the   ti^rerish 
rage,   the  swinish  selfishness,   the    unfeeling 
hardness,   the   retaliating  ini])ulses,   the   low 
passions,  mounting  up  and  over  our  better 
and  purer  thoughts  and  threatening  the  ex- 
tinction of  the  divine.     We  all  know  it.     The 
best  men  in  the  world  have  felt  the  conflict 
most  deeply.      St.  Paul  did  fight  with  beasts 
at  Ephesus,  and  everywhere  else.     St.  Geor<rc 
did  slay  the  dragon,  and  more  than  one  or 
two.      St.  Anthony  did  feel  the  thrust  of  the 
swinish  snouts  and  the  tearing  of  tigers'  and 
vultures'  claws,  which  y\lbert  Dure;-  painted 
in  his  terrible  but  true  picture  of  the  saint's 
temptation.      It  is  the  story  of  Hercules  and 
his  labors,  and  of  the  Son  of  man  in  his  forty 
days*  temptation  in  the  wilderness. 

Now  it  is  against  the  beast  that  the  eternal 
Lamb  makes  his  war,  and  will  until  he  is  con- 

243 


u 


Manhood's  Struggle  and  Victory 

quered  and  cast  out  forever.  A  strange  con- 
ception that,  and  one  tliat  ahnost  shocks  us 
by  its  incongruity — a  lamb  warring  against  a 
beast,  with  the  purpose  and  expectation  of 
overcoming  him.  It  requires  a  gooti  deal  of 
effort  to  adjust  our  thoughts  to  it.  And  yet 
it  is  but  saying  in  another  and  bolder  way 
that  God  loves  a  bad  world  into  goodness; 
that  he  does  not,  after  all,  depend  upon  the 
machinery  of  legislation  and  penalty  and 
polic(i  to  drive  men  out  of  their  sins  and 
sensualisms.  Force  is  not  remedy.  Shutting 
a  soul  up  under  such  mere  mechanical  condi- 
tions that  it  would  be  imi^ossible  for  it  to  do 
sinful  things  would  be  but  a  sort  of  half-way 
victory.  Shutting  up  the  Jack-in-the-box 
does  not  in  any  real  sense  change  Jack ;  the 
hideous  and  repulsive  thing  i.s  still  there  just 
under  the  lid.  The  warfare  of  the  Lamb 
with  the  beast  must  be  such  war  as  a  lamb 
can  make.  The  force  by  which  the  contest 
is  to  be  carried  on  and  the  victory  gained  is 
not  dynamic,  but  moral,  affectional.  The 
life  is  not  to  be  crushed  in  compulsions,  as  one 

244 


The  Lamb  and  the  Beast 


might  break  up  the  ice  of  a  river,  but  it  is  to 
be  melted  in  the  sunshine  of  love  and  grace 
and    patience.     Mence   such   expressions   as 
"  having  a  heart  washed  in  the  blood  of  the 
Lamb  "  have  their  real  significance — a  signifi- 
cance which   has  been  often  obliterated   by 
mechanical  interpretations.     The  only  way  in 
which  a  lamb  can  fight  a  beast  is  to  patiently 
shed  his  blood  in  meek  endurance.      Christ 
fights  sin  and  conquers  sin  by  his  cross  and 
passion.     The  figure  finds  its  true  interpreta- 
tion in  the  story  of  the   prodigal   son.     The 
beast    in    him    was    only    conquered    when 
his  father — patient,  long-sufTering,  anguish- 
stricken  at  his  heart — fell  upon  the  boy's  neck 
and  kissed  him  and  wept  over  him.      It  was 
the  heart's  blood  of  the  father  that  washed 
away  the  sin  of  the  son. 

"  The  patience  of  immartal  love 
Outwearies  mortal  sin." 

And  men  are  slovvlv  learninq:  this  crreat 
fact,  that  the  war  with  the  beast  is  to  be  the 
Lamb's  war.  This  is  the  temper  of  all  the 
earnest  efforts  which  are  now  making  in  civil- 

245 


'!'*?! 


Manhood's  Struggle  and  Victory 


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ized  communities  toward  social  reform  and 
betterment.  Men  are  learning  that  heart's 
blood  must  be  shed  in  the  battle.  Compas- 
sionate !o\'e  goes  further  than  great  strenuous- 
ness.  They  are  learning  that  no  throne  or 
seat  of  authority  and  conipulsi(Mi  and  force 
can  accomplish  much  that  has  not  a  bleeding 
lamb  in  the  center  of  it.  ly^rr  as  7i'ar  fails. 
War  as  co-passion  disarnT^  and  subdues  even 
the  beast.  You  recall  Whittier's  version  of 
the  Indian  story : 

"  Once,  on  the  crrantls  of  his  mercy  bent, 
liUiMha,  the  holy  an<l  bciu'vulont, 
Met  a  fell  nionnter,  liuge  ami  fierce  of  look, 
Whose  aw*"-;!  voice  the  hills  aiul  forests  shook. 
'  ()  sorj  of  peacel'  the  jriant  cried,  '  thy  fate 
Is  scalot  at  last,  ami  love  shall  yield  to  hate.' 
The  unarmed  I>ii<ldha,  looking,  with  no  trace 
Of  fear  or  anger,  in  the  monster's  face, 
In  pity  said,  '  Poor  fiend,  even  tlwo  I  loie.^ 
Lo!  as  he  spake  the  sky-tall  terror  sank 
To  handhrcadth  size  :  the  huge  abhorrence  shrank 
Into  the  form  and  fashion  of  a  dove; 
An<l  where  the  thunder  of  its  rage  was  heard, 
Circling  above  him  sweetly  sang  the  bird. 
*  Hate  hatli  no  harm  for  love,'  so  ran  the  song; 
'  An<l  peace  unweaponcd  con([uers  every  wrong!'  " 

And  yet  this  pitying  love  is  no  weak  thing. 

Brightest  light  i>  backed  by  darkest  sliadow. 

346 


The  Lamb  and  the  Beast 

Tenderest  pity  goes  hand  in  hand  with  most 
strenuous  and   uncompromising  hate.     The 
more   intense    the   love   for   any  object,   the 
more  consuming  the  wrath  against  whatever 
assails  the  well- being  of  that  object.     There 
is  no  wrath  like  the  "wrath  of  the  Lamb." 
It  must  needs  be  mighty.      It  is  the  shield 
which  infinite  love  interposes  for  the  protec- 
tion .  f  the  human  spirit  from  its  worst  enemy. 
It  is  the  blast  which  saves  the  wheat  and 
drives  away  the  chalT.      It  is  the  fire  which 
spares  every  atom  of  the  gold  and  burns  out 
its  dross  and  defilement.     There  is  no  friend- 
lier word  of  Holy  Writ  than  that  "our  God 
is  a  consuming  fire." 

Now  this,  whether  you  find  it  in  India  or 
in  Juflea,  is  //n^  j^ospcl  of  Jesus  Christ.  It  is 
the  LaiubofGod  who  taketh  away  the  sins  of 
the  world.  It  is  of  no  lasting  use  to  fight  the 
beast  with  the  beast,  in  the  world,  in  those 
who  are  specially  near  and  dear  to  us,  or  in 
ourselves.  As  for  the  beast  that  is  abroad  in 
the  world,  he  is  still  rampant,  terrible;  but 
there  are  signs  everywhere  that  the  Lamb  is 

247 


Manhood's  Struggle  and  Victory 

on  the  field,  and  his  patient  work  grows,  Hke 
a  dawn  upon  the  darkness.  As  for  the  beast 
in  those  around  us,  there  must  be  no  heat  of 
anger,  no  resentment  of  the  beastliness. 
Cudgeling  will  only  make  a  cur  more  cur- 
rish. We  must  carry  toward  them  a  bleed- 
ing lamb  in  our  hearts.  As  for  the  beast  in 
ourselves,  "  If  we  walk  in  the  Spirit,"  says  the 
apostle,  "  we  shall  not  fulfil  the  lusts  of  the 
flf  sh."  And  "  walking  in  the  Spirit  "  is  noth- 
ing more  or  less  than  letting  the  gentleness, 
the  purity,  the  tenderness,  and  grace  of  God's 
slain  Lamb  enter  in  and  possess  and  dominion 
our  souls.  He  asks  each  one  of  us,  as  he  asked 
one  of  old,  "  Wilt  thou  ?  "  And  to  the  assent 
heartily  given  he  responds,  "  I  will ;  be  thou 
clean." 


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The  Sabbath 

By 

Bishop  John  H.  Vincent 

Topeka,  Kan. 

"/fnd  he  said  unto  them,  The  Sabbath  was  wade  for 
man,  and  not  man  for  the  Sabbath:  so  that  the  Son  of 
man  is  lord  even  of  the  Sabbath."— Mark  it.  2-j,  28. 

JI^^SUS  himself  kept,  in  his  own  way,  the 
Sabbath  of  the  Jews.  It  was  his  custom 
on  that  day  to  attend  the  services  of  the 
synagogue.  In  the  lesson  of  the  day  we 
have  a  hint  as  to  his  habit  from  boyhood  in 
the  town  "where  he  had  been  brought  uj)." 
In  the  record  from  which  the  text  is  taken 
we  find  him  and  his  disciples  walking  through 
the  fields  on  the  Sabbath  day,  plucking  the 
bending  wheat-heads  as  they  pa.ssed.  Jesus 
more  than  once  gave  offense  to  his  fellow- 
countrymen  by  his  independence  of  ceremo- 

249 


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The  Sabbath 

nial  requirements.  He  wrought  works  of 
mercy  and  of  necessity  on  Sabbath  days  which 
if  not  specifically  forbidden  were  to  a  faithful 
Pharisee  of  doubtful  propriety.  His  enemies 
tried  to  entrap  him,  that  they  might  condemn 
him ;  but  he  claimed  that  good  deeds  were 
proper  on  a  good  day ;  that  the  Sabbath  was 
made  for  man,  and  not  man  for  the  Sabbath ; 
and  that  he,  the  Son  of  man,  was  lord  of  the 
Sabbath.  The  followers  of  Christ,  released 
from  the  bondage  of  Jewish  enactments  and 
customs,  used  the  Sabbath  for  special  Chris- 
tian services,  and  later  on  observed  the  first 
day  of  the  week,  which  gradually  became  the 
Christian  way  of  fulfilling  the  Sabbatical  ob- 
ligation. •  We  find  the  recognition  of  the 
Sabbath  in  the  earliest  records  of  the  Jewish 
(which  is  also  in  its  essential  elements  the 
Christian)  faith.  In  the  very  beginning, 
when  the  first  notation  of  time  was  made, 
and  man  began  to  live  and  to  order  affairs  on 
the  planet,  the  Sabbath  was  instituted.  It 
began  with  the  race.     In  the  immortal  song 

of  creation  found  on  the  first  page  of  the 

250 


1 


' 


The  Day  of  Genesis 

Book  of  Genesis  two  facts  are  made  clear: 
first,  that  God  was  the  Creator,  and  second, 
that  the  creation  was  a  gradual,  a  progressive 
movement.     To  aid  human  thought  and  to 
make  impressive  the  idea  of  gradualness,  the 
sacred  writer  introduces  a  time-scale.     This 
"  day  "  of  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis  has 
nothing    to    do    with    an    actual    "period," 
whether  of  twenty-four  hours  or  twenty-four 
milhons  of  years.     It  is  a  beautiful  device— 
this  use  of  a  week  of  days  and  nights— to 
show  that  :he  creation  was  not  instantaneous. 
The  writer  might  have  introduced  any  other 
time-measurement.       He   might  have  sug- 
gested years,  or  centuries,  or  cycles.     But 
the  most  convenient,  the  simplest  scale  was 
the  week  of  days— a  figure  to  help  us  to  the 
thought  of  continuous  creative  energy. 

On  the  "  sixth  day  "  man  appears.  He  is 
a  higher  creation.  He  is  made  in  the  image 
of  God.  He  is  to  be  on  earth  the  represen- 
tative of  God  in  dominion — one  with  God ; 
having  knowledge,  in  his  measure,  like  God's 
knowledge,  life  like  God's  life,  authority  like 

251 


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The  Sabbath 


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God's  authority,  and  the  possibility  of  right- 
eousness like  God's  righteousness.  And  how 
shall  man  be  helped  to  a  true  conception  of 
a  godlike  life — a  life,  not  of  indolence,  but  of 
strength,  repose,  and  peace?  How  shall 
man,  with  this  wealth  of  material  resources, 
be  reminded  of  his  spiritual  endowment,  mis- 
sion, and  dependence?  How  shall  he  be 
brought  into  a  life  of  communion  with  God, 
his  Maker,  his  Father — a  life  above  the  phy- 
sical life ;  a  life  for  the  development  of  his 
spiritual  nature,  derived  from  God ;  a  life 
nobler  than  a  life  of  physical,  commercial, 
social,  political  interest  and  activity ;  a  life  of 
preparation  for  all  other  and  lower  relations 
and  responsibilities?  And  if  man  made 
innocent  shall,  when  tested,  fail  of  virtue 
and  drop  to  lower  levels,  how  shall  he  be 
brought  up  to  righteousness  and  true  holi- 
ness? Therefore  the  inspired  poet  of  the 
creation  added  to  his  time-scale  another  day 
— a  seventh  day,  a  Lord's  day,  a  day  of 
divine  rest  and  of  human  opportunity.     It 

was  not  a  day  of  God's  withdrawal  from  his 

252 


Paul  and  the  Sabbath 


universe,  a  day  of  the  suspension  of  divine 
interest  and  activity.     It  was  an  impressive 
symbol  of  human  need  and  of  the  true  rest 
of  the  soul  of  man — godlike  only  when  in 
perfect  harmony  and  communion  with  him. 
Thus  the  primeval  Sabbath  was  instituted  as 
a  reminder  of  man's  high  relationships,  and 
as  a  help  to  his  highest  training  for  dominion 
on  the  earth  and  for  the  unutterable  glories 
of  his  destiny  beyond.     How  insignificant  do 
Sunday  laws  about  "things"  appear  when 
we  grasp  the  larger  thought  of  Genesis  and 
of  Jesus,  that  the  Sabbath  was  made  for  man, 
and  not  man  for  the  Sabbath!     This  same 
view   Paul   and    the   early    Christians   held. 
The   study  of  that  apoatle's   theory,  as  set 
forth  in  the  fourteenth  chapter  of  his  letter  to 
the  Romans,  will  show  his  attitude  toward 
the  ritualistic  Sabbath  of  the  Pharisees,  while 
we  see  clearly  in  his  teachings  and  habits 
that  he  exalted  the  spiritual  life  of  divine 
communion  which  the  true  Sabbath  of  the 
Scriptures  is  appointed  to  promote. 

The  same  misapprehensions  and  contro- 

253 


The  Sabbath 


)|     ( 

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11 


\i 


versies  which  caused  discussions  between 
Jesus  and  the  Pharisees,  and  between  Paul 
and  the  Judaizing  Christians  of  his  day,  have 
continued  in  the  church  until  the  present  day. 
And  while  such  theories  remain  disputations, 
extremes  and  excesses  are  inevitable.  Those 
who  believe  in  the  divine  provision  of  the 
sacred  seventh  of  our  time  for  the  higher 
uses  of  man  cannot  approve  the  indifference 
and  opposition  of  men  who  would  abolish 
all  recognition  of  the  Sabbath  day.  Men 
who  carry  their  ethical  and  religious  convic- 
tions into  political  and  civic  life,  who  make  it 
a  matter  of  conscience  to  seek  the  enactment 
of  good  laws,  and  the  execution  of  them  when 
enacted,,are  sure  to  array  against  themselves 
and  their  measures  men  who  carry  the  idea 
of  liberty  beyond  the  limits  of  social  security. 
And  these  same  good  and  true  representa- 
tives of  the  higher  social  and  personal  life 
are  in  danger  of  insisting  too  strenuously 
upon  religious  regulations  which  contravene 
both   religious   and  political   liberty.     So  it 

happens  that  severity  remonstrates  against 

254 


<^-^ 


Laxity  in  Sabbath  Observance 

Jaxity  and   sometimes  enacts  and    enforces 
restrictive  laws,  and  men  who  are  not   re- 
ligious, or  at  least  not  religious  after  the  re- 
ligious ways  of  their  neighbors,  feel  that  their 
personal  freedom  is  interfered  with.     Citizens 
of  foreign  birth,  accustomed  to  the  more  easy- 
going social  ways  and  the  less  rigid  religious 
notions  of  their  native  lands  beyond  the  sea, 
protest  freely  against  what  they  call  an  in- 
fringement of  their  rights  in  a  free  republic- 
less  free,  they  aver,  in  these  respects  than  the 
monarchical  governments  they  left  in  order 
to  become  citizens  of  this  great  nation   of 
freemen. 

This  foreign  element,  but  not  this  alone, 
will  account  for  the  increasing  laxity  of  our 
age  touching  Sabbath  observance.     We  are 
all  aware   of  a  reaction   from  the  old-time 
strictness  in  the  ordering  of  domestic  life, 
and  especially  on  the  holy  day.     And  this 
reaction  is  not  wholly  evil.     We  have  pic- 
tures, not  always  exaggerated,  of  the  early 
times :  of  the  silent  house  on  the  Sabbath ; 
the   cold  and   frugal  meal;   the  long  hours 

255 


(^ 


The  Sabbath 


If 

! 

y 


ii: 


spent  in  straight-backed  pews  in  square- 
walled,  square-windowed  churches;  long 
prayers,  long  sermons,  long  faces;  sharp 
rebukes  for  smiles  that  could  not  be  re- 
pressed, and  solemn  tones  on  Sundays  from 
voices  that  on  week-days  were  natural  and 
agreeable.  And  all  this — with  sundry  other 
public  offices  and  private  admonitions — con- 
spired to  make  children  loathe  Sabbath  days, 
sanctuary  services,  and  home  solemnities. 
People  who  had  no  such  experiences  them- 
selves have  heard  and  read  about  them  and 
ridiculed  them,  and  have  reached  the  conclu- 
sion that  Sabbath-keeping  is  a  bondage  and 
a  folly — a  bondage  they  purpose  never  to 
endure,  a,  folly  of  which  they  will  never  be 
guilty.  Thus  what  we  call  "  society  "  laughs 
at  the  church ;  and  as  society  is  in  the  church, 
the  church  of  to-day  laughs  at  the  church  of 
yesterday,  and  we  are  in  some  danger  of  los- 
ing through  a  laugh  what  is  really  a  serious 
and  important  factor  in  our  civilization,  phy- 
sical, social,  political,  educational,  religious — 

the  true  Sabbath  day,  the  American  Sabbath 

256 


i'atriotism  uFid  the  Sabbath 

as  distinguished  from  the  Jewish,  the  Euro- 
pean,  and  the  Puritan  Sabbath,  the  Sabbath 
of  which  John  Ellerton  sings : 

"  This  is  the  day  of  light :  let  there  be  light  to-day; 
O  Dayspring,  rise  upon  our  night,  and  chase  its  gloom 
away! 

"  This  is  the  day  of  rest:  our  failing  strength  renew, 
On  weary  brain  and  troubled  breast  shed  thou  thy  freshen- 
ing dew. 

"This  is  the  day  of  peace:  thy  peace  our  spirits  fdl, 
Bid  thou  the  blasts  of  discord  cease,  the  waves  of  strife  be 
still. 

"  This  is  the  first  of  days  :  send  forth  thy  quickening  breath, 
And  wake  dead  souls  to  love  and  praise,  O  Vanquisher  of 
death!  " 

Let  us  still  honor  and  cherish  the  day  of  God, 
the   sacred  seventh  of  our  treasure—//;;/^/ 
All  good  things  may  be  abused—learning  and 
libe  ty  and  love.     A  nation's  flag  may  be 
trailed  in  the  dust.     A  nation's  honor  and 
courage  may  be  tossed  into  the  arena  and 
played  with  by  ambitious  politicians  to  the 
humiliation  of  patriots.     But  learning,  liberty, 
love,  the  nation's  flag,  and  the  nation's  honor 
and  courage,  are  good  things.     As  we  would 
save  our  land,  let  us  save  our  Sabbath. 
It  does  not  matter  what  we  call  this  day 

257 


'I 


7 
■t. 


I. 


The  Sabbath 

—"Sabbath,"  "Sunday,"  or  "Lord's  day.*' 
It  matters  not  wliich  day  of  the  seven  we 
hallow — "  First-day  "  or  "  Seventh-day."  It 
matters  not  at  all  which  hours  we  keep — 
from  sunset  to  sunset,  or  from  midnight  to 
midnight.  But  let  us  save  the  "  sacred  sev- 
enth " !  Are  there  not  wise  reasons  for  try- 
ing to  do  this?  And  is  there  not  a  wise  way 
of  doing  it?  It  is  greatly  in  our  favor  that 
we  still  have  the  Sabbath  with  us.  It  is  an 
institution  long  cherished;  maintained  by 
wise  and  good  men ;  recently  revived  in  Paris 
by  a  society  of  advanced  French  reformers 
who,  although  not  churchmen,  nor  committed 
to  any  form  of  religious  worship,  are  con- 
vinced that  the  French  working-man  must 
have  one  day  a  week  for  physical  rest  and 
social  life.  The  Sabbath  is  in  the  legislation 
of  all  Christian  lands,  and  the  more  the  Bible 
is  studied,  the  more  plainly  appears  the 
reasonableness,  the  righteousness,  the  neces- 
sity of  a  day  made  for  man — for  man  made 
in  the  image  of  God. 

Our  own  busy  and  exciting  American  life 

258 


:\^ 


Its  Symbolic  Significance 

especially  needs  the  calming  power  of  such  a 
day.     The  tension  of  the  times  demands  re- 
lief.    Worn-out    bodies,    overtaxed     brains, 
constantly  stimulated  energies,  require  some 
social  regulation  to  compel  recuperative  rest. 
How  fully  are   these   requirements    met    in 
Sabbath    stillness,    rehgious    reflection,    the 
subduing  power  of  sacred  music,  the  impres- 
sive solemnities  of  public  worship,  the  joy  of 
home  life,  the  memories  of  a  past  now  hal- 
lowed by  a  love  that  was  faithful  in  its  day  to 
its  opportunity  and  that  now  draws  the  soul 
toward  heaven ! 

The  Sabbath  day  is  a  symbol  of  the  high- 
est and  holiest  verities  in  which  man  can  be 
concerned.     It  is  a  monument  in  time,  rising 
like  the  white  obelisk  in  Washington  from 
the  dust  and  clamor  of  the  earth  toward  the 
serene  and  stainless  realm   above.     It  is  a 
day  that  points  upward  to  God  and  destiny. 
It  reminds  us  of  duty.     It  offers  to  us  par- 
don  for  the  past,  peace  in  the  present,  and 
hope  for  an  immortal  future.     It  represents 
the  righteousness  that  is  indispensable  to  the 

259 


I 


I 


The  Sabbath 

perpetuity  of  the  republic.  It  represents 
"  heaven  and  earth  in  union  :  earth  for  heaven, 
heaven  for  earth."  Let  the  flag  of  the 
nation  float!  Its  intrinsic  value  is  slight; 
its  significance  beyond  expression.  Let  the 
day  of  days,  God's  Sabbath,  stand!  It  is 
but  a  shred  of  time;  it  is  weighted  with 
treasures  of  eternity. 

The  Sabbath  is  the  day  of  opportunity. 
Its  recognition  by  the  community  confers 
immense  privilege  on  the  individual.  It 
withdraws  the  pressure  of  worldly  occupation 
and  drudgery,  and  leaves  the  man  free  to  go, 
if  he  will,  into  the  house  of  God  "  with  the 
multitude  that  k^eps  holyday."  It  brings 
people  together  in  that  holiest  fellowship,  the 
fraternity  of  worship:  parents  and  children, 
friends  and  neighbors,  classes  of  society 
which  the  cares  of  the  world  elsewhere  sepa- 
rate into  castes — merchant  and  clerk,  em- 
ployer and  employee.  Alas,  alas!  that  I 
dream  of  the  possible  rather  than  of  the 
actual.     But  this  is  the  Sabbath  ministry  of 

good  neighborship,  of  good  Samaritanship, 

260 


Its  Sacred  Opportunities 


I 


which  makes  it  the  day  of  the  Son  of  man. 
The  Sabbath  is  opportunity  for  the  reverent, 
the  associated,  the  private  study  of  the  most 
important  fields  of  thought  to  which  man's 
attention  is  called.  For  this  we  have  books, 
sermons,  classes,  and  may  enjoy  frijndly 
religious  conversation  and  discussion.  What 
possibilities  crowd  the  hours  of  the  Sabbath! 
The  day  makes  possible  personal  growth 
in  faith  and  sympathy  an.  unselfishness.  Is 
there  a  thoughtful  man  who  does  not  peri- 
odically retire  from  the  contusion  of  life  into 
secret  chambers  of  reflection,  of  prayer,  and 
of  resolve?  Sabbath  hours  give  him  time 
for  this  high  service  and  furnish  incentives  to 
its  performance.  What  a  corrective  such 
sacred  endeavors  are  of  all  tendencies  to  ir- 
reverence, to  frivolity,  to  flippancy,  to  heed- 
lessness, in  matters  of  religious  faith !  What 
personal  dignity  is  promoted  by  this  personal 
fellowship  with  the  God  who  made  him,  the 
Christ  who  redeemed  him,  and  the  Holy 
Spirit  who  dwells   within   him!     Thus   the 

Sabbath  opens  to  -he  devout  soul  treasures 

261 


mm 


A 


■I  ^ 


M- 


The  Sabbath 

of  grace — the  spirit  of  earnestness,  of  faith, 
of  rcsohitciicss.  The  American  Sabbath  is 
preeminently  tlie  opportunity  of  the  Ameri- 
can home.  May  we  too  easily  aban(h)n  tlie 
old-time  systematic  orderint;  of  the  Sunday 
life  at  home  ?  May  we  l)ecome  careless  in 
this  respect?  Better  tiie  old-time  rigidity! 
I5etter  for  the  children,  better  for  the  parents, 
better  for  the  nation. 

It  is  a  good  habit,  this  Sunday  habit.  It 
is  hard  to  accpiire  in  the  beginning,  as  is  all 
discipline  ifi  self-control  and  self-direction. 
Children  are  ([uite  likely  to  rebel  against  the 
regime  that  is  best  for  them.  They  may 
succeed  in  evading  or  in  slipping  the  yoke  of 
authority  and  then  rejoice  in  their  freedom. 
lUit  such  liberty  is  likely  to  become  bondage 
in  the  end.  It  is  good  for  a  man  to  b.-.r:  the 
yoke  in  his  youth,  in  the  home,  in  the  school- 
room, in  the  field,  in  the  shop.  The  parent 
is  likely  to  know  better  than  the  child  what 
ministers  to  personal  strength  and  well-being. 
Infinite  wisdom  and  love  express  in  law  what 

is  best  for  man.     That  the  best  is  for  the 

262 


The  Safeguard  ot   Youth 


present  distasteful  and  often  ^^rievous  is  not 
strange,  hut  it  is  folly  to  ar^ue  that  because 
distasteful  or  even  grievous  it  should  be  re- 
mitted. It  is  not  a  bad  thin^  to  train  a  boy 
in  the  decencies  and  proprieties  of  table 
manners,  however  stronjr  the  protests  of  the 
animal  within  him.  It  is  not  a  bad  thing  to 
repress  the  fury  of  his  temper  and  his  unrea- 
soning insubordination.  A  firm  grip,  a  tone 
of  authority,  a  withdrawal  of  coveted  and 
otherwise  legitimate  pleasure,  a  physical 
demonstration  of  the  reign  of  law  and  right- 
eousnes.s — these  are  wholesome  lessons  for 
the  young  brute  who  lias  wrai)ped  up  within 
him  a  man's  reason,  a  potential  conscience^ 
and  the  germs  of  sainthood.  Let  us  have 
fear  in  these  days,  not  of  too  much  home 
government,  but  of  a  carelessness  which  may, 
before  we  are  aware  of  it,  develop  lawless- 
ness. Let  us  have  a  Sabbath  law  and  a 
Sabbath  life  at  home.  One  cannot  excuse 
the  traditioucal  puritanic  rigidity  concerning 
Sabbath  observance;  but  for  the  sake  of  the 

children,  by  all  that  is  beautiful  and  sacred  in 

263 


The  Sabbath 


I) 


I 


home  love,  by  all  that  is  divine  in  parental 
authority,  by  all  that  is  imperative  in  moral 
obligation,  let  us  make  the  day  of  God  a 
sacred,  a  delightful,  a  memorable  day  in  the 
family  circle. 

I  have  little  patience  with  the  questions  in 
casuistry  usually  started  when  one  speaks  of 
the  holy  day  and  its  sacred  uses :  '*  What 
about  writing  letters  and  studying  lessons  on 
Sunday?"  "What  about  a  Sunday  after- 
noon walk  with  the  children  or  friends,  din- 
ing out,  starting  on  a  journey,  reading  the 
Sunday  papers,  street-car  travel,  conversing 
on  secular  topics?"  and  other  questions  of 
this  class.  Let  all  such  questions  be  settled 
by  theindividual.  As  Paul  says,  "  Let  every 
man  be  fully  persuaded  in  his  own  mind." 
There  are  many  large  and  radical  questions, 
far-reaching  questions,  which  the  man  must 
answer  before  he  comes  to  these  minor  mat- 
ters, these  merely  symptomatic  conditions — 
questions  too  numerous  and  too  radical  to 
allow  us  to  waste  time  on  these.     Let  a  man 

ask  himself,  "Am  I  living  an  earnest  life? 

264 


:!? 


'    \ 


1( 


U.Jw~4 


Sabbath  Questionings 

Have  I  faith  in  eternal  things?  Am  I  really 
theist  or  agnostic  ?  Do  I  know  the  thoughts 
and  reasonings  of  foremost  philosophers, 
scientists,  and  saints  who  have  believed  in 
God,  in  revelation,  in  destiny  ?  Again,  what 
are  the  ruling  motives  in  my  life?  Am  I 
aiming  at  service  or  at  self-advancement? 
Am  I  laying  foundations  of  character  that 
will  stand  the  pressure  of  temptation  in  the 
years  of  public,  social,  or  commercial  life  that 
lie  before  me?  Am  I  excusing  myself  from 
personal  investigation  of  the  claims  of  religion 
because  I  happen  to  know  of  some  scholarly 
and  scientific  man  who  openly  repudiates 
those  claims?  What  do  I  really  know  about 
Jesus  of  Nazareth?  Is  all  the  acquaintance 
with  him  I  can  lay  claim  to  based  upon  some 
slight  teaching  in  Sunday-school  or  upon  some 
references  I  have  heard  in  the  pulpit  ?  Do  I 
know  his  place  in  history  ?  Do  I  know  only 
what  Strauss  or  Renan  has  written  concern- 
ing him,  or  is  there  a  world  of  rich  and  reve- 
rent and  scholarly  literature  the  reading  of 

which  might  modify  my  views  of  that  great 

265 


i 


I 


if,    !l 


,^. 


1! 
]:  If 


The  Sabbath 

figure  in  human  history  who  is  to-day  more 
talked  about  and  thought  about  and  written 
about  than  ever  before  or  than  any  character 
in  all  history  ?  Is  it  not  worth  my  while  to 
read  what  ten  of  the  strongest  and  most  gifted 
scholars  of  this  generation  have  written  in 
honor  of  this  marvel  of  all  history?  "  But  I 
have  suggested  only  a  tithe  of  the  questions 
an  earnest  soul  ought  to  ask,  and  which  a 
truly  earnest  soul  ivill  ask,  in  reference  to 
the  most  momentous  topics  relating  to  human 
life.  Here  is  the  Sabbath  day,  with  its 
splendid  opportunities  for  reflection,  reading, 
listening,  conversing,  on  all  these  themes. 
Answer  these  questions  and  you  will  not  be 
puzzled  about  street-cars,  Sunday  papers, 
Sunday  dinners,  or  any  of  the  usual  small 
talk  about  Sabbath  observance.  Be  tremen- 
dously in  earnest,  and  topics  will  take  their 
proper  places,  and  some  themes  will  drop 
out  of  sight,  and  others  which  you  have 
never  considered  at  all  will  loom  up  like 
mighty  mountains  on  your  horizon. 

Young  men,  honor  the  Sabbath  and  let  it 

266 


A  Day  of  Rest 


serve  your  higher  nature.  It  was  made  for 
man.  Receive  it  as  God's  provision  for  men 
who  would  be  like  God — knowing,  loving, 
creating,  exercising  "  dominion."  Use  it  as 
a  day  of  rest  from  the  activities  and  perplexi- 
ties of  the  lower  realm  of  life,  that  you  may 
rejoice  in  the  higher  and  thus  exalt  the  lower. 
Plato  says,  "  Out  of  pity  for  the  wretched  life 
of  mortals  the  Deity  arranged  days  of  festal 
refreshment."  George  Washington,  at  the 
beginning  of  the  War  of  the  Revolution,  is- 
sued an  order  from  which  I  quote :  "  That  the 
troops  may  have  an  opportunity  of  attending 
public  worship,  as  well  as  to  take  some  rest 
after  the  great  fatigue  they  have  gone  through, 
the  general  in  future  excuses  them  from  fa- 
tigue duty  on  Sundays,  except  at  the  ship- 
yards or  on  special  occasions,  until  further 
orders.  We  can  have  but  little  hope  of  the 
blessing  of  Heaven  on  our  arms  if  we  insult 
it  by  our  impiety  and  folly."  Well  says 
Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  "  Christianity  has 
given  us  the  Sabbath,  the  jubilee  of  the  whole 

world,  whose  light  dawns  welcome  alike  into 

267 


1 


I. 


The  Sabbath 

the  closet  of  the  philosopher,  into  the  garret 
of  toil,  and  into  prison-cells,  and  everywhere 
suggests  even  to  the  vile  the  dignity  of  spir- 
itual being."  Robertson  of  Brighton,  whose 
insight  into  spiritual  philosophy  was  as  direct 
and  penetrating  as  his  practical  surrender  to 
its  teachings  was  complete,  says  of  Sabbath 
observance :  "  I  am  more  and  more  sure  by 
practical  experience  that  the  reason  for  the 
observance  of  the  Sabbath  lies  deep  in  the 
everlasting  necessities  of  human  nature,  and 
that  as  long  as  man  is  man  the  blessedness  of 
keeping  it,  not  as  a  day  of  rest  only,  but  as  a 
day  of  spiritual  rest,  will  never  be  annulled." 
Therefore  let  us,  sons  of  men,  sons  of  God, 
keep  with  reverent  care  and  with  the  joy  of 
love  this  holy  day — ^this  Sabbath  that  was 
made  for  man.  It  is  the  sttidenfs  day,  where- 
on he  may  turn  from  the  ordinary  to  the  sub- 
limer  world  of  thought  and  find  new  inspira- 
tion for  his  daily  endeavor.  It  is  the  doubter  s 
day,  on  which  he  may  investigate  the  most 
momentous  questions  of  God  and  duty  and 

destiny.     It  is  the  children's  day,  when  the 

268 


^    V 


I  •' 


The  Universal  Day 

home  circle  may  be  perfect,  and  sweet  mem- 
ories be  planted  which  shall  fill  the  later  years 
with  their  fragrance.     The  children  need  the 
gentle  influence  of  the  Sabbath.     And  if  we 
who  are  no  longer  children  were  to  give  up 
ourselves  to  the  consecration  and  the  conser- 
vation of  the  day  in  the  interest  of  the  young 
life  of  the  land,  we  should  not  only  insure  a 
better  and  a  larger  life  to  the  next  generation, 
but  we  should  ourselves  enter  more  fully  and 
with  greater  plenitude   of  power  into  that 
kingdom  of  which  its  Founder  said  to  his  dis- 
ciples, "  Except  ye  be  converted,  and  become 
as  little  children,  ye  shall  not  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  God."     The  Sabbath  is  ih^ poor 
man's  day,  when  he  can  have  leisure  to  re- 
ward the  love  of  wife  and  children,  go  with 
them  to  the  house  of  God,  and  enjoy  to  the 
full  what  Longfellow  calls  "  the  dear,  deli- 
cious, silent  Sunday,  to  the  weary  workman 
both  of  brain  and  hand  the  beloved  day  of 
rest."     It  is  the  rich  man's  day,  when,  if  he 
will,  he  may  throw  off  the  burdens  of  anxiety 
and  prove  to  his  family  that  there  are  some 

269 


I 


If. 


11; 


■■  a/. 


m 


\i 


i 


It; 


I 


The  Sabbath 

things  he  prizes  as  much  as  stocks  and  es- 
tates and  silver  and  gold — a  day  when  he 
may  transfer  some  of  his  treasures  to  the 
heavens  and  fix  his  heart  on  things  above, 
where  moth  and  rust  cannot  corrupt,  nor 
thieves  break  through  and  steal.  It  is  the 
mourner's  day,  on  which  eyes  that  weep  in 
sore  bereavement  may  look  upward  and  hear 
a  voice  out  of  the  heavens  say,  "  In  my 
Father's  house  are  many  mansions."  It  is 
the  true  all  saints'  day,  when,  rising  above 
the  littleness,  the  rivalries,  the  limitations  of 
this  life,  we  may  look  through  Sabbath  skies 
to  the  innumerable  company  in  the  city  on 
Mount  Zion,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  and 
smg : 

'*  City  of  God,  how  broad  and  far  outspread  thy  walls  sub- 
lime! 
The  true  thy  chartered  freemen  are,  of  every  age  and 
clime. 

"  One  holy  church,  one  army  strong,  one  steadfast  high  in- 
tent, 
One  working  band,  one  harvest  song,  one  King  omnipo- 
tent! 

**  In  vain  the  surges'  angry  shock,  in  vain  the  drifting  sands ; 
Unharmed  upon  the  eternal  rock  the  eternal  city  stands." 

270 


The  Day  of  Days 


md  es- 
hen  he 

to  the 

above, 
pt,   nor 

is  the 
veep  in 
lid  hear 

In  my 
'  It  is 
[  above 
tions  of 
th  skies 
city  on 
m,   and 


Therefore,  as  long  as  knowledge  is  better  than 
ignorance,  wisdom  weightier  than  folly,  right- 
eousness worthier  than  sin,  freedom  better 
tlian  bondage,  earnestness  nobler  than  frivol- 
ity, the  whole  people  of  greater  value  than  a 
favored  few,  the  soul  more  to  be  prized  than 
the  body,  and  eternity  than  time,  let  us  prize 
highly,  guard  carefully,  and  keep  holy  the 
Sabbath  day,  the  day  of  the  Son  of  man,  the 
day  of  the  sons  of  God. 


walls  sub- 
Y  age  and 

it  high  in- 
g  omnipo- 


ing  sands ; 
y  stands." 


271 


'{ 


tf 


i 


i(/i. 


ii' 


^i. 


)i 


Immutability 

By 

M.  Woolsey  Stryker,  D.D.,  LL.D. 

President  of  Hamilton  College,  Clinton,  N.  Y. 

"  That  those  things  which  arc  not  shaken  may  remain.' 
— Hch.  xii.  2j. 

WERE  the  Bible  less  complimented  and 
more  appreciated  it  would  be  read 
far  more  naturally.  It  has  no  magical  effect. 
Though  it  is  the  Book,  it  is  a  booky  and  a 
book  whose  natural  history  is  part  of  its  su- 
perlative value.  Its  origin  was  not  artificial, 
and  the  special  occasion  and  accent — the 
adaptation  of  each  several  part  to  a  certain 
set  of  circumstances — give  to  each  part  its 
own  peculiar  value  and  explanation.  We 
want  the  point  of  view,  and  what  is  called 
"introduction"  is  therefore  indispensable. 
Who,  e.g.,  were  Timothy  and  Paul?  what  was 

272 


' 


.■*>v. 


^^^ 

• 

• 

■    ^^^^ 

k 

?9m 

r  ^Vjl 

1 

-%'■  .-. 

.i/'''lHB^Vfl 

f 

^^^Hh!^^^^^^^^^.  ^ 

f 

H^^^fll 

1L 

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i:^ 


The  Record  of  Process 


Crete,  Corinth  ?  how  did  the  Galatians  differ 
from  the  Philippians  ?  It  is  true  of  tlie  Bible 
also,  and  because  it  is  so  august,  nascitiir  uon 
fit.  The  divine  wisdom  embodied  in  the  very- 
process  and  progress  of  revelation  is  one  note 
of  its  authority — each  strand  is  dyed  in  the 
colors  of  its  own  time.  It  is  this  normal 
variety  that  leads  us  to  be  sure  of  that  su- 
preme unity  in  which  all  the  books  are 
^providential  chapters  of  one  persistent  and 
ever-augmenting  interpretation  of  the  spirit 
of  ma.1  learning  to  understand  the  inspiration 
of  the  Almighty.  Just  because  this  whole 
Book  goes  deepest  into  origins  and  ends, 
man's  nature  and  God's  nature,  it  is  the  most 
natural  book  in  the  world.  We  must  never 
think  that  the  supernatural  is  extra-natural 
The  Bible  is  not  outside  of  human  nature, 
but  at  its  core.  Nature  is  not  shallow ;  it  too 
is  a  book;  and  the  Bible  is  a  book  super- 
naturally  natural.  It  would  be  a  great  gain 
if  all  this  collection  of  writings  could  be  set  in 
chronological  sequence;  the  nearer  we  can 
come  to  such  a  mental  arrangement  of  them 

273 


id 


J 


■'1 


Hit 


, 


>  i-l 


\ 


'i'   .  ■' 


Immutability 

the  better  for  our  comprehension.  How  shall 
you  get  tiie  force  of  Ezra  or  Jeremiah  or 
Amos  if  you  do  not  know  their  dates?  The 
historical  anatc  my  of  d\c  Book  underlies  its 
physiology. 

Of  the  twenty-seven  New  Testament  books, 
one  is  a  great  prophetic  prose  poem,  five  are 
simple  narratives,  and  twenty-one  are  letters. 
This  last  is  the  most  flexible  and  the  most 
personal  form  of  writing.  As  il  was  the  most 
natural  method  for  tiie  apostles  to  use,  so  its 
familiar  facility  best  met  the  needs  of  those 
diverse  persons  and  grou[)s.  Even  its  abstract 
paragraphs  are  always  quick  and  warm.  The 
whole  New  Testament  is  full  of  local  color  and 
is  incident  to  actual  life.  This  "  touch  of  na- 
ture," this  circumstantiality,  this  intense  time- 
liness, sign  it  with  the  signature  of  an  all-com- 
passing Providence.  Because  so  vital  it  is 
perennial.     God's  Spirit  breathes  through  it. 

Who  reads  a  letter  piecemeal?  A  letter 
is  meant  for  one  sitting  and  a  whole  impres- 
sion.    These  twenty-one  letters  are  to  be  felt 

in    their    individual    completeness.     "  Who, 

274 


Retrospect  ami  Prospect 


when,  where,  why,  what?"  Notably  docs 
the  letter  to  the  Hebrews  reijuire  and  reward 
a  careful  search  for  its  dominant  thought  and 
intent.  It  surely  is  among  the  six  or  seven 
books  of  the  New  Testament  foremost  in 
importance. 

It  has  singular  value  as  a  book  of  relations 
— showing  the  fulfilment  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment spirit  in  the  spirit  of  the  New.  A  per- 
fect commentary  upon  Leviticus,  it  declares 
the  moral  inviolability  of  God's  one  only 
covenant;  it  explains  the  merging  of  the  dis- 
pensation of  Israel  in  that  of  the  Christian 
church,  and  the  completion  of  all  ritual  and 
symbol  in  Ilim  whom  that  system  had  pre- 
figured and  for  whom  it  had  prepared.  It 
interprets  every  tradition  and  [)rccedent  as 
transfigured  in  Jesus  the  Christ,  and  while 
using  the  largest  retrospect  rebukes  the  idola- 
try which  can  only  look  back. 

But  though  the  letter  is  such  an  ample 
demonstration,  it  is  more — an  appeal.  The 
general  scope  of  the  argument  is  made  glow- 
ing hot  by  its  spe*  ial  address  to  the  trouble 

275 


Immutability 


?     ,  ! 


and  anxiety  of  those  to  whom  just  then  the 
problem  of  transition  was  of  painful  and  all 
but  overwhelming-  perplexity.  Here  lies  the 
ardor,  the  pathos,  the  penetration  of  whoever 
he  was  that  penned  it.  This  cardinal  adapta- 
tion to  that  time  is  what  adapts  it  to  all  times 
of  strangeness  and  misgiving.  Bishop  West- 
cott  says  (**  C.  C,"  p.  4) :  "  No  men  were  ever 
called  to  endure  greater  sacrifices,  to  sur- 
render more  precious  hopes,  to  bear  deeper 
disappointments,  than  those  to  whom  this 
epistle  was  first  addressed  "  ;  and  he  opens  its 
inmost  secret  in  declaring  that  it  was  written 
"  /o  those  who  were  ii7idergoing  the  trials  of  a 
neiv  age.''  This  is  indeed  its  message — a 
perpetual  lesson  for  all  souls  baffled  and  hesi- 
tating under  the  exactions  and  special  appre- 
hensions of  a  changing  time. 

From  that  Jewish  Christian  whom  this  let- 
ter takes  by  the  hand  how  much  that  he  held 
sacred  seemed  to  be  slipping  away!  How 
could  he  turn  from  that  solemn  and  splendid 
past  and  all  at  once  be  adjusted  to  what 

seemed  to  disregard  customs  and  associations 

276 


i  ■( 


h  >w. 


.  *■•>.  -.«■»,**  ■. : 


Fulfilment 


hen  the 

and  all 

lies  the 

vhoever 

adapta- 

ill  times 

p  West- 

ere  ever 

to  sur- 

deeper 

Dm  this 

pens  its 

written 

als  of  a 

sage — a 

d  hesi- 

appre- 

his  let- 
le  held 

How 
>lendid 

what 
ations 


intertwined  with  his  deepest  life  ?  The  He- 
brew had  and  held  in  veneration  a  nation,  a 
liturgy,  a  temple,  and  a  law ;  how  could  he, 
without  sharp  travail,  comprehend  that  there 
had  been  ushered  in  that  which  was  larger 
than  the  nation,  grander  than  the  temple, 
more  hallowed  than  the  old  ceremonial, 
deeper  than  the  law ;  and  that  patriotism, 
worship,  reverence,  obedience,  under  new 
forms,  were  to  be  kept  not  only,  but  en- 
larged ? 

No  wonder  that  some,  startled  and  dis- 
tressed, drew  back  from  what  seemed  to  them 
a  collapse.  No  wonder  that,  unable  so 
swiftly  to  distinguish  between  the  transient 
and  the  permanent,  some  devout  souls,  caught 
in  the  throes  of  such  a  period,  found  faith 
itself  in  jeopardy.  To  show  such  how  the 
chosen  people  was  the  vessel  of  a  world  re- 
demption ;  how  the  chrysalis  ages  were  sur- 
passed ;  that  Christ  was  not  a  destroyer,  but 
a  fulfiller,  in  whom  all  the  ancient  things  had 
come  to  their  consummation — this  was  the 

task  of  love  the  epistle  so  wondrously  per- 

277 


I. 


J 


!? 


n,  I  i 


Immutability 

formed.  Its  whole  motif  and  criterion  is  the 
evolution  of  an  all-consistent,  all-embracing 
purpose,  which  glorified  the  past,  not  as  a 
sunsetting,  but  as  a  dawn.  Your  more  de- 
liberate reading  may  well  analyze  and  array 
this  great  translation  of  Hebrew  thought  into 
Christian  thought,  but  even  the  swift  allusion 
(which  is  all  our  present  limit  allows)  can 
give  us  the  organ  note  that  sounds  the  con- 
stant key.  More  than  any  other  New  Testa- 
ment writing  this  compact  letter  is  ruled  by 
the  method  of  comparison  and  antithesis. 
All  its  detail  is  organized  under  contrast. 
Every  stroke  declares  that  reestablishment  is 
the  purpose  of  all  disestablishment ;  that, 
whatever  good  God  takes,  he  gives  a  better, 
leading  on  to  the  best ;  that  where  he  sup- 
plants he  replants.  And  the  final  appeal  is 
to  that  affinity  with  him  which  disappoints 
all  fears  and  teaches  the  heart  to  "  hold  fast 
the  confession  of  hope,  that  it  waver  not." 
"  The  law  but  a  shadow  of  good  things  to 
come";  "the  disannulling  of  the  command- 
ment, and  the  bringing  in  of  a  better  hope  "  ; 

278 


■».-at!girgi".r9WC! 


The  Building  More  than  its  Scaffold 


^1 


"  a  better  covenant,  enacted  upon  better 
promises " ;  "a  greater  and  more  perfect 
tabernacle  " ;  "  One  worthy  of  more  glory 
than  Moses  "  ;  "a  perpetual  High  Priest  "  ; 
**  a  continuing  city  "  ;  "a  kingdom  that  can- 
not be  shaken  " ;  "He  taketh  away  the  first, 
that  he  may  establish  the  second."  These 
contrasts,  and  many  more  their  like,  declare 
the  immanent,  the  perdurable,  the  immutable 
care  of  a  God  under  whom  they  are  not  to 
"  shrink  back,"  but  to  believe;  and  at  that 
word  out  blazes  the  sublime  definition  of 
xi.  I,  and,  the  skies  shriveling  as  in  an  amphi- 
theater, whereof  all  ages  are  the  spectators 
and  each  present  age  the  spectacle,  there  is 
disclosed  the  "  great  cloud  of  witnesses," 
and  there  is  declared  that  moral  continuity 
of  all  believing  generations  in  which  the 
past  is  forever  perfecting  in  the  "  better 
things  "  provided  through  each  new  present. 
The  culmination  of  the  epistle  lies  in  our 
text,  but  the  full  chord  was  struck  in  its 
opening  phrase  (i.  i):  "  God,  who,"  etc. 

Here  lies  the  appeal  to  our  hearts.     By  all 

279 


1 


1. 


' 

i 

. 

' 

Immutability 

this  raptured  argument  the  Faithful  One  chal- 
lenges our  confidence.  Amid  shaken  cir- 
cumstance u' shaken  Providence!  Out  of 
darkness  the  Shechinah!  Through  the 
shattering  of  forms,  the  displacement  of  cus- 
tom, the  overruling  of  precedents,  over  all 
and  in  all,  God ! 

Here  are  the  elements  of  all  human  dis- 
cipline. Here  is  a  solvent  for  the  uncertain- 
ties and  reluctancy  of  every  age,  unexpectant 
because  too  self-centered.  God  is  the  same, 
and  "  Jesus  Christ  is  the  sa./ie  yesterday, 
and  to-day,  and  forever."  He  "cannot  deny 
himself,"  and  still  declares,  "  It  is  I ;  be  not 
afraid."  He  leads  all  generations  and  leads 
each  soul.  To  his  fidelity  we  are  to  cleave 
rather  than  to  our  associations  with  his  past 
method.  In  all  swirl  and  gloom  it  is  our 
experience  of  hiniy  rather  than  any  forecast 
of  his  way^  that  must  steady  us. 

The  secret  of  life  is  growth,  prolonging  its 

identity  while  ever  weaving  new  garments. 

Our  very  bodies  are  a  parable  of  the  uses  of 

change.     Literally  they  "  die  daily."     As  in 

280 


■Mb* 


MHMl 


Whatever  Lives  Moves 


i! 


walking  one  perpetually  loses  and  regains  his 
balance,  taking  ground  with  the  heel  and 
leaving  it  with  the  toes,  and  thus  moving,  so 
advances  the  soul — every  new  foothold  a  new 
point  of  departure.  Retrograde  is  not  man's 
natural  gait ;  it  is  the  crab  that  creeps  ahead 
and  runs  backward!  As  the  oncoming  buds 
of  spring  push  off  the  leaves  of  autumn,  so 
we  doflf  the  old  summer  and  don  the  new. 
Life  is  more  than  its  leaves,  and  so  (**  as  the 
days  of  a  tree  "),  "  though  the  outward  per- 
ishes, the  inner  is  renewed  day  by  day." 
This  is  the  penalty  and  reward  of  our  birth- 
right. Immortal  life  must  be  perpetual 
motion.  Biology  transcends  morphology 
and  is  a  spiritual  science.  Whatever  has 
come  to  a  standstill  is  dead.  Then  it  may 
be  dissected,  but  not  revived.  The  open 
secret  of  life  is  lost.  That  is  kept  elsewhere 
than  in  disjecta  membra;  it  is  at  the  other  end 
of  the  knife. 

Following    neither    the    extremists,    who 
retain  all  form,  nor  those  who  abandon  all 

substance,  and  discerning  between  the  abso- 

281 


1- 


y  i\ 


■'  I 


I 


/•( 


i 


i  1 


/ 


Immutability 


}•■  I 


■f- : 


V. 


li  i 


lute  and  the  relative,  we  can  avow,  as  did 
Jeremiah  (xvii.  12)  in  other  tumultuous  and 
seismic  days,  "  A  glorious  throne,  set  on  high 
from  the  beginning,  is  the  place  of  our  sanc- 
tuary." 

With  such  comfort  to  courage  as  the  be- 
lieving Hebrews  of  the  first  Christian  century 
received  this  letter,  so  may  we  take  it  in  this 
latest  century,  which  cannot  be  the  last. 
Each  antms  Domini  must  trace  the  past,  not 
to  repeat,  but  to  surpass,  still  going  on  into 
the  future's  explorations  with  Him  who  never 
stops.  The  developing  parts  which  fear  calls 
fragments  faith  holds  as  portions,  and  finds 
their  implication  by  not  detaching  and  isola- 
ting them. 

In  "  the  first  and  the  last  and  the  living 
One  "  we  live  and  move.  This  is  the  legi- 
bility of  duty  and  the  philosophy  of  history. 
What  seems  to  indolence  and  timidity  an 
emergency,  or  even  a  catastrophe,  is  but  one 
clause  of  that  revelation  which  is  punctuated 
with   commas  and  whose  continuous  sense 

uses  no  disjunctives  and  attains  no  period. 

282 


iM 


fv 


m 


The  Point  of  View 


It  is  they  who  "  have  no  changes  "  who 
fear  not   God.     Eccentricity   is   dislocation. 
To  him  who  stations  himself  upon  what  is 
central    every    enlarging    circumference     is 
normal.     All  new  experience  is  serious,  but 
to  the  reverent  mind  it  is  always  precious  in 
its    recall    to    "the    things    that    cannot    be 
shaken."     Our  vicissitudes  are  kindly  in  set- 
ting aside  secondary  things  and  in  putting 
forward  what  is  primary,  in  turning  us  from 
the  symbol  to  the  sense,  in  bringing  us  back 
to    our     necessary    selves.       Dislodgments 
from  ease  and  complacency  (and  from  their 
neglects  and  torpors)  invite  us  to  where  we 
can   neither  be  disappointed   nor  surprised. 
"  Emptied  from  vessel  to  vessel "  and  edu- 
cated in  expectant  attention,  we  get  by  heart 
that  old  solace,  "My  soul,  wait  thou  only 
upon  God."     If  nothing  is  so  disagreeable, 
so  dreary,  so  futile,  as  religion  without  him, 
nothing  is  so  deep  and  sure  as  he.     Faithful- 
ness to  the  "two   immutable   things"   (his 
"  word  "  and  his  "  oath  ")  can  never  know 
monotony  or  imagine  danger.     In  the  rapids 

283 


u 


M,r 


,m 


I , 


/ 


Immutability 


it  is  Cvirtain  of  the  helmsman.  "  At  the  core 
of  the  cyclone  it  finds  a  place  of  total  calm." 

"  Let  us  be  like  the  bird,  one  instant  lighted 
Upon  a  twig  that  swings ; 
He  feels  it  yield,  but  sings  on  unaffrighted, 
Knowing  he  has  his  wings." 

As  in  a  distant  land  the  appearance  of  a  dear 
friend  can  make  strange  scenes  homelike,  so 
the  recognition  of  the  constancy  of  God  can 
surmount  all  the  tremors  of  a  lonely  heart. 

Or  do  we  ponder  the  riddle  of  this  our 
time — its  incisive,  insistent  questions,  its 
mental  pace  and  strain?  God  has  not  for- 
gotten. "  Progress  is  made  by  shaking  to 
its  center  all  that  is  uncritical."  So  has 
every  science  been  purged  of  guesses,  and  so 
shall  still  be.  Our  definitions  and  explana- 
tions are  provisional.  They  are  like  the 
manna,  "  good  for  this  day  only."  God  is 
not  peradventured  upon  our  theodicies. 

The  great  world's  convulsions  usher  the 
kingdom  that  cannot  be  shaken.  Not  even 
the  hideous  disconcert  of  the  so-called  Chris- 
tian powers  can  long  bar  back  the  Son  of 

284 


III..'   '-^far'^iA^iiii.,  .V 


^t  the  core 
>tal  calm." 

ighted 
ighted, 

of  a  dear 
nelike,  so 

God  can 
/  heart. 

this  our 
:ions,    its 

not  for- 
aking  to 

So  has 
5,  and  so 
Jxplana- 
ike   the 

God  is 
es. 

her  the 
ot  even 

Chris- 
Son  of 


The  Scepter  of  Light 

man.  He  will  break  their  insolent  bluster 
with  a  rod  of  iron. 

Well  may  we  go  on  with  God  and  "  nightly 
pitch  a  moving  tent,"  though  all  we  are  sure 
of  is  "  God  " ;  that  syllable  is  central.  What 
if  we  stand  in  the  fog,  so  we  stand  on  that 
Rock? 

"  Bright  shoots  of  everlastingnesse  "  already 
begin  "  the  morning  without  clouds  "  which 
puzzled  and  troubled  souls  shall  know  whose 
very  difficulties  forced  them  to  venture  all 
upon  Him  "  with  whom  there  is  no  parallax 


or 


eclipse. 


\ 


I 


285 


y 


i\' 


I,  1' 


The  Sinless  One 

By 

George  T.  Purves,  D.D. 

Professor  of  New  Testament  Literature  in  Princeton  Theological 

Seminary 

"For  such  an  high  priest  became  us,  who  is  holy,  harm- 
less, undefilcd,  separate  from  sinners."  — Heb.  vii.  26. 

WHATEVER  makes  the  person  of 
Jesus  Christ  vividly  real  to  our 
thoughts  helps  us  in  our  daily  lives.  Practical 
Christianity  finds  a  mighty  stimulus  in  trust- 
ing contemplating,  understanding,  and  follow- 
ing, him ;  for  in  so  doing  we  learn  to  live  with 
God  and  for  man.  He  is  the  personal  cen- 
ter of  our  religion,  the  living  revelation  of 
truth  and  life,  the  magnet  by  which  we  are 
drawn  heavenward,  the  one  in  and  by  whom 
salvation  becomes  an  actual  possession.  And 
yet  thus  vividly  and  truthfully  to  apprehend 

him  is  not  easy.     Being  invisible  he  does  not 

286 


iespsr 


'■j^'ii  "yww>ygBg 


Theological 

;  holj',  harm- 
vii.  26. 

person  of 
al  to  our 
Practical 
in  trust- 
ed foUow- 
live  with 
nal  cen- 
lation  of 
111  we  are 
y  whom 
And 
•prehend 
iocs  not 


'•  i 


; : 


■r) 


ill 


IK 


'^najca 


Studying  Jesus 

stand  so  clearly  before  us  as  other  objects 
which  address  themselves  to  our  senses.     The 
historical   distance  from    us    of   his    earthly 
career  is  apt  to   make  his  figure  indistinct. 
Even  our  dogmatic  conceptions  of  his  person 
and  work  sometimes  become  formal  and  life- 
less, though  intended  to  interpret  him  and 
though  correctly  expressing  what  we  should 
believe  about  him.     It  ought,  therefore,  to 
be  our  effort  constantly  to  repaint  his  figure 
upon  the  canvas  of  our  thought,  to  turn  upon 
him  the  light  of  experience  and  research,  of 
comparison  and  analysis,  that  fresh  ideas  of 
his  unspeakable  glory  may  daily  dawn  upon 
our  minds,  may  delight  our  hearts,  and  cause 
us  to  give  him  all  the  admiration  and  devo- 
tion of  which  we  may  be  capable. 

Now  in  the  words  of  our  text  we  have 
briefly  described  the  moral  purity  of  Jesus, 
the  sinles-s  unspotted  excellence  of  his  per- 
sonal character.  The  language  is  very  vivid. 
It  shows  the  profound  impression  which 
Jesus  made  on  the  first  generation  of  disci- 
ples— the  immediate  reflection  of  the  impres- 

a87 


T7f 


I' 


i 

•11 


^     > 


i    -^i 


J 


f  r 

f      t 
f 


U    • ':  f 


:|i: 


■I 


.  I  'I 


^        The  Sinless  One 

sion  made  on  those  who  came  into  direct 
contact  with  him.  The  words  breathe  the 
realism  of  personal  acquaintance.  They  do 
not  enlarge  upon  what  all  knew,  but  they 
express  very  beautifully  the  sense  of  ineffable 
purity  and  holiness,  of  infinite  moral  superi- 
ority, which  the  disciples  received  from  him 
whose  very  presence  had  revealed  a  new  and 
heavenly  life.  He  was  **  holy  "  ;  and  the 
Greek  word  is  not  the  common  one  for  a  thing 
set  apart  for  sacred  usage,  but  a  word  K-^. 
often  employed  and  indicative  of  an  exqui- 
sitely pure  and  lofty  character,  one  that  real- 
ized and  discharged  all  its  obligations.  He 
was  "  harmless,"  i.e.,  thoroughly  good,  gen- 
tle, benevolent,  tender-hearted,  and  true. 
Out  of  him  as  they  remembered  him  no  harm 
ever  proceeded.  No  evil  ever  issued  from 
act  or  word  of  his.  Nothing  but  good  came 
from  him.  When  we  remember  how  much 
we  influence  one  another,  and  how  much  evil 
goes  forth  even  from  the  best  of  us  to  coun- 
terbalance not  a  little  of  the  good  we  do,  we 

shall  appreciate  the  character  of  the  One  of 

288 


ito  direct 
^athe  the 
They  do 
but  they 
f  ineffable 
al  superi- 
from  him 
I  new  and 

and  the 
or  a  thing 
word  ]<"^'- 
an  exqui- 
that  rcal- 
ons.  He 
3od,  gen- 
nd    true. 

no  harm 
lied  from 
Dod  came 
3w  much 
nuch  evil 

to  coun- 
re  do,  we 

i  One  of 


Spiritual  Separation 

whom  it  could  be  said  by  those  who  knew 
him  best  that  he  was,  as  he  bade  them  to 
be,  "  harmless  as  a  dove."  Further,  he  was 
'*  undefiled  " — untainted  by  the  corruption  of 
the  world  in  which  he  dwelt,  unspotted  by 
the  passions  which  left  a  stain  even  on  apos- 
tles. In  short,  he  was  "  separate  from  sin- 
ners." Some  would  take  these  words  with 
those  that  follow,  "  made  higher  than  the 
heavens,"  and  understand  them  to  describe 
our  Lord  as  now  separated  at  the  right  hand 
of  God  from  the  world  of  sinners,  even  as 
the  high  priest  in  the  most  holy  place  was 
separated  from  the  multitude  for  whom  he 
made  atonement.  But  I  judge  it  more  nat- 
ural to  see  in  the  words  another  phrase  to 
describe  Christ's  personal  character.  He  was 
separated  from  sinners.  The  disciples  who 
stood  nearest  to  him  felt  that  there  was  a 
great  chasm  between  his  spotless  soul  and 
Uieirs.  He  was  on  a  plane  above  them. 
His  motives  and  purposes  were  unlike  theirs. 
And  this  although  in  other  respects  he  was 

so  near  to  them  and  so  truly  man.     He  had 

289 


The  Sinless  One 

laid  hold,  as  this  epistle  says,  on  the  seed  of 
Abraham.  He  was  touched  with  the  feeling 
of  their  infirmities.  He  was  full  of  sympathy 
and  friendship.  He  understood  them.  He 
took  them  by  the  hand.  He  wept  over  their 
griefs  and  rejoiced  in  their  joys.  Yet  he  was 
evidently  as  far  above  them  as  the  gleaming 
stars  were  higher  than  the  water  in  which 
their  brilliance  was  reflected.  He  was  the 
frit;  '^  o^  publicans  and  harlots,  and  yet  he 
was  ** ..    larate  from  sinners." 

Could  any  language  more  forcibly  express 
the  sense  which  the  disciples  had  of  their 
Master's  sinlessness?  As  I  have  said,  the 
words  indicate  the  realism  of  personal  ac- 
quaintance. They  do  not  speak  in  the  lan- 
guage of,  the  schools.  They  do  not  measure 
Christ's  worth  by  formal  standards.  They 
are  the  outcome  of  personal  adoration  and 
unspeakable  reverence  for  One  whose  charac- 
ter and  life  had  been  to  those  who  knew  him 
the  disclosure  of  the  absolutely  good. 

Now  I  desire  to  enable  you,  if  possible,  to 

realize  afresh  the  sinlessness  of  Jesus  Christ 

290 


the  seed  of 
the  feehng 

sympathy 
hem.     He 

over  their 
^et  he  was 

gleaming 

in  which 
'  was  the 
id  yet  he 

y  express 
of  their 
said,   the 
!onal  ac- 
the  Ian- 
measure 
They 
lion  and 
;  charac- 
Jew  him 

sible,  to 
5  Christ 


No  Sense  of  Sin 

by  suggesting  certain  considerations  which 
ought  to  make  it  very  clear  and  very  aston- 
ishing to  our  minds.  I  would  exalt  your 
sense  of  his  personal  perfection, — unlike  that 
of  any  other  character  who  has  ever  appeared 
in  the  history  of  our  race,— -and  I  would  do 
it,  not  by  a  formal  proof  of  the  doctrine,  but 
by  setting  his  life  in  its  surroundings,  with 
the  hope  that  the  same  impression  may  be 
made  on  our  minds  as  on  those  who  knew 
him  first. 

I.   Consider,  then,  that  in  all  the  records 
which  we  have  of  the  Lord  Jesus  there  is  not 
the  slightest  betrayal  by  him   of  the  least 
degree  of  the  consciousness  of  sin.     We  have 
a  sufficiently  complete  record  to  justify  us  in 
saying  that  this  is  a  fact.     We  see  him  in 
most    trying    hours.     We    hear   him    pray. 
We  listen  to  his  teaching  on  religious  themes. 
We    hear   him    reprove   others.     We   catcli 
glimpses  of  him  in  private  as  well  as  in  pub- 
lic.    We   know  that   he  spake   often  about 
himself.     But  in   all   the   life  of  Christ  we 
never  hear  any  confession  of  unworthiness  or 

291 


il 


The  Sinless  One 

any  longing  after  holiness,  or  discover  any 
indication  whatever  that  he  felt  himself  in 
the  least  degree  touched  by  sin. 

The  significance  of  this  will  appear  if  we 
recall  two  other  facts,  one  of  experience,  the 
other  of  history. 

The  first  is  that,  as  a  matter  of  universal 
experience,  the  more  spiritual  a  man  becomes 
the  more  does  he  feel  himself  a  sinner  and 
unworthy  of  fellowship  with  God.  The 
progress  of  man's  moral  life  commonly  con- 
sists in  the  awakening  and  sharpening  of  iiis 
conscience.  He  becomes  more  keenly  aware 
of  moral  obligations.  He  sees  them  where 
before  he  saw  them  not.  He  analyzes  more 
thoroughly  his  motives  and  classifies  more 
correctly  his  duties.  He  becomes  more  sen- 
sitive to  the  demands  made  upon  his  con- 
science, just  as  progress  in  other  departments 
of  activity  consists  in  the  refinement  of  our 
powers  and  the  larger  perception  of  the  ob- 
jects on  which  they  were  meant  to  terminate. 
This  is  the  law  of  the  moral  and  spiritual  life 

of  man.     He  is  at  first  a  child,  and,  like  a 

292 


The  Growth  of  Conscience 


child,  only  takes  in  a  few  facts,  feels  his  ob- 
ligations in  but  a  few  directions.     Some  men 
never  grow  beyond  this  stage.     Though  their 
intellects  may  be  cultured  and  their  bodies 
strengthened,  their    moral    faculties   remain 
undeveloped.       Then   conscience    is   apt   to 
become  a  mere  scourge,  driving  to  unloved 
duty;  a  nightmare,  affrighting  with  threats 
of  torment.     But  just  so  far  as  the  spiritual 
life  of  man  has  blossomed  and  flowered,  so 
far  has  his  sensitiveness  to  evil  increased,  his 
recognition  of  it  brightened  and  clarified,  his 
consciousness  of  its  presence  in  him  become 
more  intense,  and  his  longings  after  freedom 
from  it  become  stronger.     Witness  in  proof 
of  this  the  hymns  of  all  religions,  and  espe- 
cially the  hymns  of  Christendom.     Witness 
the  advance  of  social  morality,  taking  in,  as 
it  has  gradually  done,  matters  that  were  once 
thought  quite  indifferent.     Read  the  confes- 
sions of  the  purest  men  and  women  who  have 
ever  lived.     Those  that  have  risen  highest 
have  felt  themselves  the  lowest.     And  this 
has  not  been  a  delusion  with  them;   they 

293 


The  Sinless  One 


11 


have  only  seen  more  clearly.  A  villainous 
murderer  went  to  the  scaffold  saying  that  he 
looked  on  his  life  as  a  whole  with  much  sat- 
isfaction, and  felt  that,  with  the  trifling  ex- 
ception of  a  murder,  he  had  tried  to  do  right 
by  all  men.  Augustine  wrote,  '*  The  dwell- 
ing of  my  soul  is  in  ruins ;  do  Thou  restore  it. 
There  is  that  in  it  which  must  offend  thine 
eyes;  I  confess  and  know  it:  but  who  will 
cleanse  it?"  Such  are  fair  examples.  Who 
of  us  that  try  to  love  God  does  not  know 
the  same  thing  from  his  own  experience? 
As  Christian  life  proceeds,  as  its  insight  be- 
comes clearer,  as  its  consciousness  deepens 
and  is  purified,  it  becomes  more  and  more 
ready  to  say  with  the  Scripture,  "  In  my 
flesh  there  dwelleth  no  good  thing,"  and  to 
repeat  confessions  at  which  the  world  some- 
times stands  amazed.  Just  in  proportion  as 
man's  moral  life  advances  does  he  feel  that 
he  is  not  worthy  even  to  gather  up  the 
crumbs  that  fall  from  the  festal  table  which 
the  grace  of  God  has  spread. 

But  lo!   the  one  person  who  by  act  and 

294 


The  Call  to  Repentance 

word  gave  evidence  of  the  most  spiritual  life 
was  absolutely  without  this  element  of  mind. 
He  had  the  clearest  insight  into  moral 
duties.  His  words  are  still  recognized  as 
embodying  the  loftiest  ethics.  His  charac- 
ter is  held  worthy  of  universal  imitation. 
He  loved  to  pray.  He  talked  with  God  as 
though  he  saw  him.  And  yet,  unlike  every 
other  man  of  spiritual  insight  who  ever  lived, 
he  never  betrayed  any  sense  of  unworthiness 
or  of  his  need  of  greater  holiness. 

And  this  stands  out  still  more  remarkably 
when  we  associate  it  with  the  historical  fact 
that  in  the  Jewish  world  in  which  Jesus  lived 
the  sense  of  sin  and  of  general  apostasy  from 
God  was  specially  strong  among  awakened 
minds.  Jesus  lived  in  the  age  when  John 
cried  to  all  Israel  "Repent!"  and  with  pro- 
phetic zeal  unveiled  the  monstrous  corrup- 
tion of  the  church  and  nation.  But  John 
himself  very  plainly  confessed  his  own  un- 
worthiness. Speaking  of  Messiah,  he  said, 
"  His  shoe's  latchet  I  am  not  worthy  to  un- 
loose."   So,  likewise,  those  men  who  followed 

295 


The  Sinless  One 


.■I    u 


Jesus  were  very  emphatic  in  their  confessions 
of  sin.  Peter  cried,  "  I  am  a  sinful  man,  O 
Lord."  The  centurion  said,  "  I  am  not 
worthy  that  thou  shouldest  come  under  my 
roof."  Paul  called  himself  "  the  chief  of  sin- 
ners." Wherever  Christ  or  his  gospel  went 
men  were  awakened  in  an  eminent  degree  to 
the  fact  of  sin,  and  were  led  to  confess  that, 
even  if  believers,  they  were  only  beginning 
to  aspire  to  that  holiness  without  which  they 
felt  that  no  man  can  see  the  Lord. 

But  again,  amid  this  whole  movement  and 
as  the  vital  center  of  it,  the  Lord  Jesus  never 
betrayed  the  slightest  consciousness  of  wrong. 
If  he  had  been  the  product  of  the  same  in- 
fluences which  molded  the  rest,  he  would 
have  been  the  loudest  in  his  confessions. 
But  not  an  accent  of  such  fell  from  his  lips. 
How  does  the  consciousness  of  sin  show  it- 
self? With  some  in  fear,  causing  them  to 
turn  away  from  God  and  dread  to  think  of 
him,  much  more  to  pray.  With  others  it  as- 
sumes the  form  of  bravado,  leading  them  to 

boldly  dare  the  consequences  of  their  mis- 

296 


! )    iV 


No  Need  of  Forgiveness 


deeds.  These  effects,  however,  are  seen  in 
characters  which  cannot  possibly  be  com- 
pared with  Christ's.  With  good  men,  on  the 
other  hand,  who  have  been  awakened  to  a 
sense  of  sin,  it  shows  itself  in  expressions  of 
repentance,  in  prayers  for  forgiveness,  in 
longings  after  holiness,  in  acknowledgment 
of  the  unmerited  grace  of  God  ;  sometimes  in 
painful  acts  of  self-denial  and  asceticism, 
which  are  supposed  to  compensate  for  trans- 
gression or  to  extinguish  the  power  of  evil. 
But  none  of  these  things  are  discoverable  in 
Jesus.  Though  he  called  others  to  repent, 
he  himself  never  expressed  repentance.  He 
never  asked  to  be  forgiven,  though  he  taught 
us  to  ask  it.  On  the  contrary,  we  find  him 
rejoicing  in  the  assurance  of  his  Father's 
eternal  love,  delighting  in  communion  with 
God,  and  finally  openly  challenging  his  ene- 
mies on  this  very  point :  "  Which  of  you  con- 
vinceth  me  of  sin?  "  Nor  is  there  any  trtie 
of  development  in  his  spiritual  life,  but,  from 
the  first  and  to  the  last,  the  utter  absence  of 

the  consciousness  of  sin  appears  in  him.     The 

297 


V. 


M 


The  Sinless  One 

Buddha  claimed  to  reach  perfection,  but  only 
as  the  result  of  a  long  and  painful  process  of 
self-purification.  Christ  appears  as  free  from 
the  sense  of  sin  in  the  beginning  of  his  career 
as  amid  its  close. 

Is  not  this  a  life  which  stands  alone  in  all 
history  ?  Try  to  imagine  if  it  be  possible  on 
the  ordinary  siippositions  of  human  experi- 
ence. How  could  one  be  gifted  with  such 
spiritual  discernment  and  yet  see  no  flaw  in 
himself,  if  there  was  a  flaw  ?  How  could  one 
teach  such  high  and  pure  morals  without 
confessing  his  own  shortcomings,  if  he  di^' 
come  short?  How  could  one  dwell  so  near 
to  the  divine  Father  and  never  ask  to  be  for- 
given sin,  which  that  Father  hates,  if  there 
was  any  sin  to  be  forgiven?  I  ask  you  to 
think  of  this,  not  from  the  standpoint  of  the 
deity  of  Christ  in  which  we  believe,  but  from 
the  standpoint  of  his  humanity.  Conceive 
the  impression  which  he  must  have  made 
upon  those  about  him.  Realize  that  he  was 
an  actual  living  person.  Then  you  will  ap- 
preciate the  fact  that  in  all  the  record  of  his 

298 


ji  If 


>,  but  only 
process  of 
'<  free  from 
his  career 

one  in  all 
Jssible  on 
1  experi- 
/ith  such 
o  daw  in 
ould  one 
without 
he  di-' 
so  near 
)  be  for- 
if  there 
you  to 
t  of  the 
ut  from 
onceive 
J   made 
he  was 
vill  ap- 
of  his 


Credibility  of  the  Gospels 

life  there  is  not  a  trace  of  the  slightest  sense 
of  sin.  "  If  I  should  say,  I  know  not  the 
Father,"  said  Jesus  to  the  Pharisees,  "  I 
should  be  a  liar  like  unto  you :  but  I  know 
him,  and  keep  his  sayings."  "  I  do  always 
those  things  which  please  him."  Such  ex- 
pressions, embedded  in  such  a  life,  form  a 
unique  fact  in  the  history  of  moral  teaching. 
2.  There  are  only  two  ways  by  which  those 
who  doubt  these  facts  can  evade  the  force  of 
the  evidence.  The  first  is  by  saying  that 
the  record  in  the  gospels  is  not  true,  but  that 
the  disciples  exaggerated  the  character  of 
their  Master,  embellished  his  virtues  and  for- 
got his  faults.  To  reply  to  this  objection 
would  lead  us  too  far  afield.  It  involves  the 
whole  question  of  the  credibility  of  the  gos- 
pels. But  I  may  point  out  in  passing  that 
the  gospels  do  describe  Christ's  weakness  and 
weariness,  his  struggle?  with  temptation  and 
his  agony  in  the  garden.  They  evince  no 
disposition,  therefore,  to  idealize  the  charac- 
ter of  Jesus,  nor  to  hide  his  genuine  human- 
ity.    On  the  other  hand,  they  do  not,  except 

299 


\i\ 


IfJ 


,  ^! 


. 


■•')>■* 


:' 


I 


I 


.t 


I 


t 


I 


The  Sinless  One 

in  the  prologue  to  the  fourth  gospel,  briiit^ 
out  the  formal  doctrine  about  him  which  the 
apostles  themselves  believed,  nor  do  they 
impute  to  the  Master  the  theological  lan- 
guage which  later  revelations  would  have 
justified.  They  have  therefore  all  the  ap- 
pearance of  honest  histories.  They  confirm 
one  another.  They  are  themselves  confirmed 
by  the  epistles.  The  very  simplicity  of  their 
story  attests  their  historical  veracity. 

The  other  way  to  escape  the  natural  infer- 
ence from  the  facts  of  which  we  have  been 
speaking  is  to  say  that  Jesus  was  under  an 
hallucination,  that  his  enthusiasm  made  him 
blind  to  his  own  defects.  So  Renan  writes : 
**  Jesus  cannot  be  judged  by  the  rule  of  our 
petty  propriety.  The  admiratiort  of  his  dis- 
ciples overwhelmed  him  and  carried  him 
away." 

I  wish,  therefore,  to  suggest  certain  other 

facts  which  render  these   objections  highly 

improbable,  and  which  also  serve  to  give  a 

still  livelier  sense  of  the  real  sinlessness  of 

our  Lord. 

300 


The  Disciples'  Testimony 


The  first  is  that  it  was  those  who  were 
nearest  to  him  who  have  testified  to  his  spot- 
less purity.  It  is  quite  easy  to  make  a  good 
impression  on  the  public,  it  is  not  so  easy 
to  extort  from  those  who  live  with  us  a  simi- 
lar tribute,  unless  it  be  deserved.  Many  men 
seem  great  and  good  at  a  distance,  but  nearer 
at  hand  their  faults  are  manifest.  Now  the 
fact  was  that  in  public  Jesus  was  often 
charged  with  doing  wrong.  The  Pharisees 
openly  called  him  a  sinner  because  they 
thought  he  broke  the  Sabbath,  and  a  devil 
because  he  opposed  them,  and  a  blasphemer 
because  he  said  God  was  liis  Father.  He 
did  not  live  such  a  life  as  to  be  called  a  saint 
by  the  established  standard  of  the  day.  His 
reputation  was  not  based  on  conformity  to 
the  common  ideal.  On  the  contrary,  he  was 
crucified  as  a  malefactor.  It  was  only  those 
who  lived  with  him  who  testify  to  the  spot- 
less beauty  of  his  character.  '1  hey  saw  him 
in  private.  They  watched  i  .m  in  his  most 
critical  hours.  They  heard  his  ejaculations. 
They  were  his  confidential  friends.     But  it 

|0I 


^\ 


The  Sinless  One 


■■  ■( 


ii 


was  they  who  from  the  very  first  acknow- 
ledged, and  with  greater  emphasis  as  their 
acquaintance  with  him  ripened,  that  he  was 
the  Holy  One  of  God.  Their  testimony 
seems  of  great  worth.  Popular  applause  is 
easy  to  win  if  we  conform  to  the  popular 
ideal,  but  this  te^'^^'mony  was  rendered,  in  the 
face  of  derision  and  apparent  failure,  by  those 
who  knew  him  best. 

Furthermore,  nothing  that  Jesus  ever  said 
or  did  appears  even  now  to  indicate  sin  in 
him.  We  have  grown  very  wise.  Some 
think  that,  speakmg  comparatively,  we  have 
grown  good.  Certainly  the  world  has  greatly 
advanced  in  the  knowledge  of  duty.  But  it 
is  a  fact  that  we  cannot  find  anything  to 
criticize  in  Jesus  from  a  moral  point  of 
view.  All  that  we  can  do,  whether  Chris- 
tians or  not,  from  theologians  to  novelists,  is 
to  show  that  our  teachings  were  his.  He  can 
still  say,  "Which  of  you  convinceth  me  of  sin  ?  " 
In  this  age,  for  example,  we  lay  great  stress 
on  the  love  of  man  as  the  highest  form  of 
morality;  on  benevolence,  unselfishness,  on 

30a 


Sinless  though  Tempted 


altruism.  But  all  this  was  taught  and  prac- 
tised ages  ago  by  Jesus.  Or,  if  we  say  that 
morality  depends  on  the  motives  from  which 
men  act,  what  motives  can  be  higher  than 
those  which  appear  in  the  life  of  Jesus?  The 
Sermon  on  the  Mount  is  the  moral  code  of 
the  ages,  and  point,  if  you  can,  to  any  princi- 
ple or  precept  of  that  sermon  which  Jesus  did 
not  obey  in  his  life.  I  need  not  expand 
on  this ;  but  I  beg  you  to  remember  that 
the  growing  moral  sense  of  nineteen  centu- 
ries has  not  convicted  him  of  any  fault  of 
character. 

And  still  again,  remember  that  he  made 
this  impression  on  his  friends  and  gave  this 
evidence  in  his  life  althougl  le  was  perfectly 
open  to  temptation  and,  in  fact,  fcught  it 
hand  to  hand.  He  was  not  a  cold  'deal. 
He  was  not  a  statue  in  marble.  Life's  battle 
was  tremendously  real  to  him.  He  was 
tempted  as  we  are.  He  grew  also  in  know- 
ledge and  wisdom.  And  therefore  the  spot- 
less holiness  of  his  character  becomes  of 
treble  worth.     It  appears  a  living  attainment. 

303 


I  '■ 


!      i     I 


\ 


The  Sinless  One 

It  was  a  conquest.  It  was  a  thoroughly 
human  quality,  and  must  on  that  account 
have  impressed  the  more  those  who  were 
about  him.  We  need  not  stumble  over  the 
notion  that  a  sinless  person  cannot  b^ 
tempted.  If  our  first  parents  were  tempte/1 
and  fell,  Christ  could  be  tempted  without 
falling.  Moreover,  the  power  of  temptatio/x 
consists  simply  in  its  offering  us  something 
that  we  desire;  and  Jesus  desired  much  that 
he  could  not  have,  if  he  were  to  become  man's 
Redeemer.  It  was  his  lot  to  lay  aside  the 
enjoyment  of  Heaven's  favor;  to  apparently 
fail  of  winning  men  to  God ;  at  last  to  have 
the  Father  hide  his  face  from  him.  His 
temptations  lay  in  the  desire  for  these  good 
things  which  were  forbidden  him,  and  the 
very  intensity  of  his  love  of  God  and  man 
made  the  temptations  stronger.  At  any  rate 
the  testimony  is  unanimous  that  he  knew 
temptation's  power.  The  battle  in  the  wil- 
derness of  Judea,  the  agony  in  the  garden  of 
Gethsemane,  the  remark  that  fell  from  his  lips, 
"  I   have  overcome   the  world,"  sufficiently 

304 


I 


What  is  Sin? 


oroughly 

account 

^ho   were 

over  the 

nnot    b^ 

tempte/1 

without 

mptatio/K 

^mething 

inch  that 

me  man's 

aside  the 

)parently 

to  have 

His 

sse  good 

and  the 

md  man 

any  rate 

le  knew 

the  wil- 

arden  of 

his  lips, 

ficiently 


m 


attest  it.  This  very  writer  of  the  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews  knew  it.  He  says,  "  He  was  in  all 
points  tempted  like  as  we  are,  yet  without 
sin."  *'  In  that  he  himself  hath  suffered  being 
tempted,  he  is  able  to  succor  them  that  are 
tempted."  The  disciples  knew  him  too  well 
to  claim  for  him  exemption  from  the  common 
lot.  They  saw  him  harassed  and  oppressed, 
and  therefore  bowed  the  more  reverently 
before  the  meekness  and  gentleness,  the 
purity  and  love,  the  unselfishness  and  the 
righteousness  which  in  spite  of  temptation 
never  failed  to  manifest  themselves  in  Jesus. 
This  adds  immensely  to  our  admiration  of 
his  character.  He  is  one  of  ourselves.  The 
holiness  of  God  may  be  too  far  above  us  for 
us  to  comprehend  it,  but  the  spotless  purity 
of  the  tempted  Saviour,  who  will  not  adore  ? 
And  now,  once  more,  I  add  that  the  Lord 
Jesus  had  for  his  confessed  rule  of  life  a  prin- 
ciple which  naturally  made  him  realize  keenly 
the  presence  of  sin,  even  in  its  least  apparent 
forms.  He  said,  "  My  meat  is  to  do  the  will 
of  him  that  sent  me  " ;  and  through  all  his 

305 


^mrm 


VI 


I 


1 1  -I . 

i'i    t  ■ 


»i 


The  Sinless  One 

life  the  will  of  God  was  his  law,  to  do  that 

will  was  his  firm  resolve.     I  ask  you  to  note 

this  particularly ;  for  a  man's  sense  of  sin 

depends  directly  upon  his  idea  of  what  sin  is. 

Many  people  think  that  only  crime  is  sin,  and 

because  they  have  done  no  crime  they  feci 

no  sense  of  sin.     Others   think  sin   to   be 

merely  selfishness,  and  because  *^hey  are  kind 

and  philanthropic  do  not  regard  themselves 

as  seriously  at  fault.     But  the  Bible  teaches 

that  sin  is  far  more  than  this.     It  is  any  want 

of  conformity  to  the  will  of  God.     Man  owes 

to  God  absolute  loyalty  of  thought  and  act. 

The  least  rupture  of  that  loyalty  is  sin.     The 

broader  and  deeper  our  knowledge  of  the  will 

of  God,  the  more  must  we  feel  that  we  are 

sinful.     Now  my  point  is  that  Jesus  was  fully 

aware  of  this.     This  was  his  rule ;  by  this  he 

judged.     And  he  gives  evidence  of  so  broad 

and  deep  a  knowledge  of  what  God's  will  is 

that  the  rule  of  his  life  made  him  sensible  of 

sin  to  a  degree  in  comparison  with  which  our 

best  perceptions  of  it  are  as  twilight  to  high 

noon.     And   yet  he  had   no  sense  of  sin. 

306 


Christ's  Credentials 


Though  he  had  the  highest  possible  standard 
by  which  to  judge,  he  never  felt  that  the 
standard  condemned  him.  Though  he  was 
keenly  alive  to  moral  differences,  though  he 
stands  before  us  the  supreme  Teacher  of  what 
is  right,  though  he  had  for  his  rule  of  life  the 
highest  of  all  laws,  he  deliberately  said,  "  I 
have  overcome  the  world  "  ;  "I  have  finished 
the  work  which  thou  gavest  me  to  do." 

Fellow-sinners,  what  a  character  is  this! 
It  defies  all  explanations  save  that  of  the 
text.  A  man,  yet  a  sinless  man !  Tempted, 
but  never  stained!  Fighting  hand  to  hand 
with  evil,  but  never  wounded  by  it!  In  the 
world,  and  yet  above  it !  Once  and  on';'^  once 
in  human  history  has  this  spectacle  appeared. 

Permit  me,  then,  in  a  word,  to  press  upon 
your  minds  the  practical  importance  of  this 
truth. 

The  moral  character  of  Jesus  is  a  sufficient 
credential  of  the  truth  of  his  gospel.  He  has 
other  credentials,  but  I  bring  forward  this  to- 
day. He  is  unique.  He  is  truth  and  right- 
eousness incarnate.     Thei  ef  ore  his  word  must 

m 


ii', 


The  Sinless  One 


be  authoritative;  his  teaching  concerning 
God  and  duty,  truth  and  salvation,  must  be 
our  absolute  standard.  He  guarantees  by 
his  personal  sinlessness  the  authority  of  the 
message.  What  he  declares  to  be  God's 
truth  we  must  accept  as  such.  What  he 
declares  to  be  God's  will  and  purpose  we 
must  obey  and  believe.  We  scarcely  need 
other  evidence.  At  his  feet  mind  and  heart 
should  bow. 

Further,  he  is  worthy  to  be  man's  repre- 
sentative before  God.  Sinless  himself,  he  is 
a  rightful  priest  of  humanity.  So  our  text 
says,  *'  Such  an  high  priest  became  us."  This 
is  what  we  need.  Who  but  he  can  venture 
for  us  into  the  most  holy  place?  Who  but 
he  can  sprinkle  the  atoning  blood  ?  He  is  a 
priest  whose  right  to  mediate  history  and 
conscience,  as  well  as  God,  declare. 

For  can  we  suppose  that  this  sinless  life 
was  lived  for  himself  alone  ?  He  himself  as- 
sures us  of  the  contrary.  He  came  into  the 
world.  He  did  not  belong  to  it.  He  had  no 
need  to  live  on  earth  at  all.     His  express 

308 


Our  Great  High  Priest 


declaration  is  that  he  came  for  our  redemp- 
tion. If  so,  we  must  certainly  behold  in  his 
sinless  life  more  even  than  the  perfect  ex- 
ample of  what  our  lives  should  be.  It  was 
the  necessary  preparation  for  the  sacrifice  of 
the  cross,  and  it  becomes  more  than  ever 
precious  when  we  consider  that  it  was  part  of 
the  redemption  price  paid  for  our  deliverance. 
For  we  are  "  not  redeemed  with  corruptible 
things,  as  silver  and  gold,  but  with  the  pre- 
cious blood  of  Christ,  as  of  a  Lamb  without 
blemish  and  without  spot."  The  character 
which  the  world  itself  cannot  but  admire,  and 
the  Hfe  which  stands  forth  as  the  great  ex- 
ception to  all  other  lives,  obtain  the  highest 
signi Seance  when  we  also  remember  that 
God  "  hath  made  him  to  be  sin  for  us,  who 
knew  no  sin;  that  we  might  be  made  the 
righteousness  of  God  in  him."  Well  may 
we  adore  him.  Well  may  we  imitate  and 
obey  him.  But  above  all  else,  well  may  we 
trust  him ;  for  he  has  won  the  right  to  redeem 
us,  and  is  able  to  save  unto  the  uttermost  all 
those  that  come  unto  God  by  him. 

309 


